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Lalla Rookh 



j^n Oriental T{omance. 



BY / 

THOMAS MOORE. 




NEW YORK : 46 East 14TH Street. 
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street. 



.L4- 



Copyright, 1SS4, iSSS, 1S91, and 1S92, 

BY 

T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 



TO 

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED 

BY 

HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 

THOMAS MOORE. 



PREFACE. 

(written originally for " lalla rookh" in 

THE COLLECTED EDITION OF MOORE'S WORKS.) 



The Poem, or Romance, of Lalla Rookh, having 
now reached, I understand, its twentieth edition, a 
short account of the origin and progress of a work 
which has been hitherto so very fortunate in its 
course may not be deemed, perhaps, superfluous or 
misplaced. 

It was about the year 1812, that, far more through 
the encouraging suggestions of friends than from any 
confident promptings of my own ambition, I con- 
ceived the design of writing a Poem upon some Ori- 
ental subject, and of those quarto dimensions which 
Scott's successful publications in that form had then 
rendered the regular poetical standard. A negotia- 
tion on the subject was opened with the Messrs. 
Longman in the same year ; but, from some causes 
which I cannot now recollect, led to no decisive 
result ; nor was it till a year or two after, that any 
further steps were taken in the matter, — their house 
being the only one, it is right to add, with which, 
5 



6 PREFACE. 

from first to last, I held any communication upon the 
subject. 

On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly offered him- 
self as my representative in the treaty ; and, what 
with the friendly zeal of my negotiator on the one 
side, and the prompt and hberal spirit with which he 
was met on the other, there has seldom, I think, 
occurred any transaction in which Trade and Poesy 
have shone out so advantageously in each other's 
eyes. The short discussion that then took place, 
between the two parties, may be comprised in a very 
few sentences. " I am of opinion," said Mr. Perry, 
— enforcing his view of the case by arguments which 
it is not for me to cite, — " that Mr. Moore ought to 
receive for his Poem the largest price that has been 
given, in our day, for such a work." "That was," 
answered the Messrs. Longman, "three thousand 
guineas." "Exactly so," replied Mr. Perry, "and 
no less a sum ought he to receive." 

It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the 
part of the firm, that they had never yet seen a single 
line of the Poem; and that a perusal of the work 
ought to be allowed to them, before they embarked 
so large a sum in the purchase. But, no ; — the 
romantic view which my friend Perry took of the 
matter, was, that this price should be given as a 
tribute to reputation already acquired, without any 
condition for a previous perusal of the new work. 
This high tone, I must confess, not a little startled 
and alarmed me ; but, to the honor and glory of 
Romance, — as well on the publishers' side as the 
poet's, — this very generous view of the transaction 



PREFACE. 7 

was, withou- any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm 
agreed, before we separated, that I was to receive 
thi-ee thousand guineas for my Poem. 

At the time of this agreement, but little of the 
work, as it stands at present, had yet been written. 
But the ready confidence in my success shown by 
others, made up for the deficiency of that requisite 
feeling within myself; while a strong desire not 
wholly to disappoint this "auguring hope" became 
almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year 1815, 
therefore, having made some progress in my task, I 
wrote to report the state of the work to the Messrs. 
Longman, adding, that I was now most willing and 
ready, should they desire it, to submit the manuscript 
for their consideration. Their answer to this offer 
was as follows : " We are certainly impatient for the 
perusal of the Poem ; but solely for our gratification. 
Your sentiments are always honorable."' ^ 

I continued to pursue my task for another year, 
being likewise occasionally occupied with the Irish 
Melodies, two or three numbers of which made their 
appearance during the period employed in writing 
" Lalla Rookh." At length, in the year 1816, I found 
my work sufficiently advanced to be placed in the 
hands of the publishers. But the state of distress to 
which England was reduced, in that dismal year, by 
the exhausting effects of the series of wars she had 
just then concluded, and the general embarrassment 
of all classes, both agricultural and commercial, ren- 
dered it a juncture the least favorable that could well 
be conceived for the first launch into print of so light 

1 April 10, 1815. 



8 PREFACE. 

and costly a venture as " Lalla Rookh.'" Feeling con- 
scious, therefore, that under such circumstances I 
should act but honestly in putting it in the power of 
the Messrs. Longman to reconsider the terms of their 
engagement with me, — leaving them free to post- 
pone, modify, or even, should such be their wish, 
relinquish it altogether, I wrote them a letter to that 
effect, and received the following answer: "We 
shall be most happy in the pleasure of seeing you in 
February. We agree with you, indeed, that the 
times are most inauspicious for ' poetry and thou- 
sands ; ' but we believe that your poetry would do 
more than that of any other living poet at the present 
moment. "'' ^ 

The length of time I employed in writing the few 
stories strung together in Lalla Rookh will appear, to 
some persons, much more than was necessary for the 
production of such easy and " light o' love" fictions. 
But, besides that I have been, at all times, a far more 
slow and painstaking workman than would ever be 
guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, in this 
instance, I had taken upon myself a more than ordi- 
nary responsibility, from the immense stake risked 
by others on my chance of success. For a long 
time, therefore, after the agreement had been con- 
cluded, though generally at work with a view to this 
task, I made but very little real progress in it ; and I 
have still by me the beginnings of several stories 
continued, some of them, to the length of three or 
four hundred lines, which, after in vain endeavoring 
to mould them into shape, 1 threw aside, like the tale 

1 November 9, 1816. 



PREFACE. 9 

of Cambuscan, "left half-told." One of these sto- 
r-es, entitled " The PerPs Daughter," was meant to 
relate the loves of a nymph of this aerial extraction 
with a youth of mortal race, the rightful Prince of 
Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, brought up in 
seclusion, on the banks of the river Amou, by an 
aged guardian named Mohassan. The story opens 
with the first meeting of these destined lovers, then 
in their childhood; the Peri having wafted her 
daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted 
boat, whose first appearance is thus described : — 

For, down the silvery tide afar, 
There came a boat, as swift and bright 

As shines, in heav'n, some pilgrim-star, 
That leaves its own high home, at night, 
. To shoot to distant shrines of light. 

" It comes, it comes," young Orian cries, 
And panting to Mohassan flies. 
Then, down upon the flowery grass 
Reclines to see the vision pass ; 
With partly joy and partly fear, 
To find its wondrous light so near, 
And hiding oft his dazzled eyes 
Among the flowers on which he lies. 

Within the boat a baby slept, 

Like a young pearl within its shell ; 
While one, who seem'd of riper years. 
But not of earth, or earth-like spheres, 



3 PREFACE. 

Her watch beside the slumberer kept ; 
Gracefully waving, in her hand, 

The feathers of some holy bird, 

With which, from time to time, she stirr'd 
The fragrant air, and coolly fann'd 
The baby's brow, or brush'd away 

The butterflies that, bright and blue 
As on the mountains of Malay, 

Around the sleeping infant flew. 

And now the fairy boat has stopp'd 
Beside the bank, — the nymph has dropped 
Her golden anchor in the stream : 



A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of which 
the following forms a part : — 

My child she is but half divine, 
Her father sleeps in the Caspian w^ater; 
Sea-weeds twine 
His funeral shrine. 
But he lives again in the Peri's daughter. 
Fain would I fly from mortal sighlj 

To my own sweet bowers of Peristan ; 
But, there, the flowers are all too bright 

For the eyes of a baby born of man. 
On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; 

So hither my light-wing'd bark hath brought her ; 
Stranger, spread 
Thy leafiest bed. 
To rest the wandering Peri's daughter. 



PREFACE. II 

In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud 
female saint, named Banou, plays a principal part ; 
and her progress through the streets of Cufa, on the 
night of a great illuminated festival, I find thus 
described : — 

It was a scene of mirth that drew 

A smile from ev'n the Saint Banou, 

As, through the hushM, admiring throng, 

She went with stately steps along. 

And counted o'er, that all might see. 

The rubies of her rosary. 

But none might see the worldly smile 

That lurk'd beneath her veil, the while : — 

Alia forbid ! for, who would wait 

Her blessing at the temple's gate, — 

What holy man would ever run 

To kiss the ground she knelt upon. 

If once, by luckless chance, he knew 

She look'd and smil'd as others do? 

Her hands were join'd, and from each wrist 

By threads of pearl and golden twist 

Hung relics of the saints of yore, 

And scraps of talismanic lore, — 

Charms for the old, the sick, the frail, 

Some made for use, and all for sale. 

On either side, the crowd withdrew. 

To let the Saint pass proudly through ; 

While turban'd heads of every hue, 

Green, white, and crimson, bow'd around, 

And gay tiaras touch'd the ground, — 

As tulip-bells, when o'er their beds 

The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. 



12 PREFACE. 

Nay, some there were, among the crowd 
Of Moslem heads that round her bow'd. 
So fiird with zeal, by many a draught 
Of Shiraz wine profanely quaff 'd, 
That, sinking low in reverence then, 
They never rose till morn again. 

There are yet two more of these unfinished 
sketches, one of which extends to a much greater 
length than I was aware of; and, as far as I can 
judge from a hasty renewal of my acquaintance with 
it, is not incapable of being yet turned to account. 

In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale 
of The Peri's Daughter, had I yet ventured to invoke 
that most home-felt of all my inspirations, w^hich has 
lent to the story of The Fire-worshippers its main 
attraction and interest. That it was my intention, in 
the concealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow out some 
impersonation of this feeling, I take for granted from 
the prophetic words supposed to be addressed to him 
by his aged guardian : — 

Bright child of destiny ! even now 
I read the promise on that brow. 
That tyrants shall no more defile 
The glories of the Green Sea Isle, 
But Ormuz shall again be free, 
And hail her native Lord in thee ! 

In none of the other fragments do I find any trace 
of this sort of feeling, either in the subject or the per- 
sonages of the intended story; and this was the 



PREFACE. 13 

reason, doubtless, though hardly known at the time 
to myself, that, finding my subjects so slow in kin- 
dling my own sympathies, I began to despair of their 
ever touching the hearts of others ; and felt often 
inclined to say : — 

" Oh no, I have no voice or hand 
For such a song, in such a land/' 

Had this series of disheartening experiments been 
carried on much further, I must have thrown aside 
the work in despair. But at last, fortunately as it 
proved, the thought occurred to me of founding a 
story on the fierce struggle so long maintained 
between the Ghebers,i or ancient Fire-worshippers 
of Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. From 
that moment, a new and deep interest in my whole 
task took possession of me. The cause of tolerance 
was again my inspiring theme ; and the spirit that 
had spoken in the melodies of Ireland soon found 
itself at home in the East. 

Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop 
to account for the time expended in writing \\\\?> work, 
I must also, in justice to my own industry, notice the 
pains I took in long and laboriously reading for it. 
To form a storehouse, as it were, of illustration purely 
Oriental, and so familiarize myself with its various 
treasures, that, as quick as Fancy required the aid of 
fact, in her spiritings, the memory was ready, like 

1 Voltaire, in his tragedy of " Les Guebres," written with a similar 
undercurrent of meaning, was accused of having transformed his Fire- 
worshippers into Jansenists. " Quelques figuristes," he says " pre- 
tendent que les Guebres sont les Jansenistes." 



14 PREFACE. 

another Ariel, at her " strong bidding," to furnish 
materials for the spell-work, — such was, for a long 
while, the sole object of my studies ; and whatever 
time and trouble this preparatory process may have 
cost me, the effects resulting from it, as far as the 
humble merit of truthfulness is concerned, have been 
such as to repay me more than sufficiently for my 
pains. 1 have not forgotten how great was my pleas- 
ure, when told by the late Sir James Mackintosh, that 

he was once asked by Colonel W s, the historian 

of British India, " whether it was true that Moore had 
never been in the East?" " Never," answered Mack- 
intosh. "Well, that shows me," replied Colonel 

W s, " that reading over D'Herbelot is as good 

as riding on the back of a camel." 

I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that, 
although D'Herbelot's valuable work was, of course, 
one of my manuals, I took the whole range of all such 
Oriental reading as was accessible to me ; and became, 
for the time, indeed, far more conversant with all 
relating to that distant region, than I have ever been 
with the scenery, productions, or modes of hfe of any 
of those countries lying most within my reach. We 
know that D'Anville, though never in his life out of 
Paris, was able to correct a number of errors in a plan 
of the Troad taken by De Choiseul, on the spot ; and 
for my own very different, as well as far inferior, pur- 
poses, the knowledge 1 had thus acquired of distant 
localities, seen only by me in my day-dreams, was no 
less ready and useful. 

An ample reward for all this painstaking has been 
found in such welcome tributes as I have just now 



PREFACE. 15 

ed ; nor can I deny myself the gratification of citing 
ew more of the same description. From another 
.tinguished authority on Eastern subjects, the late 
■ John Malcolm, I had myself the pleasure of hear- 
; a similar opinion publicly expressed ; — that emi- 
it person, in a speech spoken by him at a Literary 
nd Dinner, having remarked, that together with 
ise qualities of a poet which he much too partially 
igned to me was combined also " the truth of the 
torian.'' 

lir William Ouseley, another high authority, in 

ng his testimony to the same effect, thus notices 

exception to the general accuracy for which he 

is me credit: "Dazzled by the beauties of this 

iposition,! few readers can perceive, and none 

;ly can regret, that the poet, in his magnificent 

.strophe, has forgotten, or boldly and most happily 

ated, the precept of Zoroaster, above noticed, 

:h held it impious to consume any portion of a 

lan body by fire, especially by that which glowed 

1 their altars." Having long lost, I fear, most of 

Eastern learning, I can only cite, in defence of my 

strophe, an old Oriental tradition, which relates 

Nimrod, when Abraham refused, at his command, 

orship the fire, ordered him to be thrown into 

iiidst of the flames.- A precedent so ancient for 

sort of use of the worshipped element, would 

ar, for all purposes at least of poetry, fully 

:ient. 

"he Fire-worshippers. « 

' Tradunt autem Hebraei banc fabulam, quod Abraham in ignem 

; sit, quia ignem adorare noluit." — St. Hieron. /« Qucest. in 

im. 



1 b PRE FA CE. 

In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have 
also heard, and need hardly add, with some pride 
and pleasure, that parts of this work have been ren- 
dered into Persian, and have found their way to 
Ispahan. To this fact, as I am willing to think it, 
allusion is made in some lively verses, written many 
years since, by my friend Mr. Luttrell : — 

" I'm told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, > 

(Can it be true, you lucky man?) \ 

By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, 
Along the streets of Ispahan." 

That some knowledge of the work may have really, 
reached that region appears not improbable from a 
passage in the Travels of Mr. Frazer, who says, that, 
" being delayed for some time at a town on the shores 
of the Caspian, he was lucky enough to be able tcr 
amuse himself with a copy of ' Lalla Rookh,' which 
a Persian had lent him." 

Of the description of Balbec, in " Paradise and the 
Peri,'" Mr. Carne, in his " Letters from the East," thus 
speaks: "The description in 'Lalla Rookh' of the 
plain and its ruins is exquisitely faithful. The minaret 
is on the declivity near at hand, and there wanted only 
the muezzin's cry to break the silence." 

I shall now tax my readers patience wdth but one 
more of these generous vouchers. Whatever of vanity 
there may be in citing such tributes, they show, at 
least, of what great value, even in poetry, is tlVi 
prosaic quality, industry ; since, as the reader oi 
the foregoing pages is nilw fully apprised, it was ;n 



PREFACE. 17 

slow and laborious collection of small facts, that 
e first foundations of this fanciful Romance were 

:d. 

The friendly testimony 1 have just referred to, 
peared, some years since, in the form in which I 
w give it, and, if I recollect right, in the Athe- 

iim : — 

" I embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual testi- 
ly (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary accuracy of 

Moore, in his topographical, antiquarian, and characteristic 
lils, whether of costume, manners, or less changing monu- 
its, both in his ' Lalla Rookh ' and in the Epicurean. It has 
1 my fortune to read his Atlantic, Bermudean, and American 
s and Epistles, in the countries and among the people to 
;h and to whom they related ; I enjoyed also the exquisite 
jht of reading his 'Lalla Rookh,' in Persia itself; and I have 
ised the Epicurean, while all my recollections of Egypt and 
still existing wonders are as fresh as when I quitted the 
cs of the Nile for Arabia: — I owe it, therefore, as a debt of 
itude (though the payment is most inadequate), for the great 
sure I have derived from his productions, to bear' my humble 

mony to their local fidelity. 

"J. S. B." 

imong the incidents connected with this work, I 
5t not omit to notice the splendid Divertissement, 
ided upon it, which was acted at the Chateau 
^al of Berlin, during the visit of the Grand Duke 
holas to that capital, in the year 1822. The 
;rent stories composing the work were represented 
'ableaux Vivans and songs ; and among the crowd 
3yal and noble personages engaged in the perform- 
is, I shall mention those only who represented 
principal characters, and whom I find thus enu- 



1 8 ' PREFACE. 

merated in the published account of the Divertisse- 
ment, i 

" Fadladin, Grand-Nasir . Conite Haack {Marechal de Coiir). 
Aliris, Roi de Bucharie . 5. A. I. le Gratid-Duc. 
Lalla Roukh . . . . S. A. I. la Grande-Dnchesse. 
Aurungzeb,leGrand Mo- ( 5. A. R. le Prince Guillaume, 

gol ( frere du Roi. 

Abdallah, Pere d'Aliris . 6". A. R. le Due de Cumberland. 

\ S. A. R. la Princesse Louise 
I Radzivill." 



La Reine, son epouse 



Besides these and other leading personages, there 
were also brought into action, under the various 
denominations of Seigneurs et Dames de Bucharie 
Dames de Cachemire, Seigneurs et Dames dansan? 
a la Fete des Roses, etc., nearly 150 persons. 

Of the manner and style in which the Tableaux o 
the different stories are described in the work fron 
which I cite, the following account of the perform 
ance of Paradise and the Peri will afford some speci 
men : — 

" La decoration repr^sentoit les portes brillante 
du Paradis, entourees de nuages, Dans le premiei 
tableau on voyoit la P6ri, triste et d^sol^e, couche 
sur le seuil des portes ferm^es, et I'Ange de lumiei 
qui lui adresse des consolations et des conseils. L 
second represente le moment ou la P^ri, dans Tespo 
que ce don lui ouvrira Tentr^e du Paradis, recueille 
derniere goutte de sang que vient de verser le jeui 
guerrier indien. . . . 

1 Lalla Roukh, Divertissement mele de Chants et de Dans 
Berlin, 1S22. The work contains a series of colored engravings, r 
resenting groups, processions, etc., in different Oriental costumes. 



PREFACE. 19 

" La P6ri et I'Ange de lumiere r^pondoient pleine- 
ment a Timage et a Tid^e qu'on est tent^ de se faire 
de ces deux individus, et Timpression qu'a faite 
g6n6ralement la suite des tableaux de cet Episode 
delicat et int^ressant est loin de s'effacer de notre 
souvenir. ■■' 

In this grand Fete, it appears, originated the trans- 
lation of " Lalla Rookh" into German ^ verse, by the 
Baron de la Motte Fouqu^ ; and the circumstances 
which led him to undertake the task, are described 
by himself in a Dedicatory Poem to the Empress of 
Russia, which he has prefixed to his translation. As 
soon as the performance, he tells us, had ended, 
Lalla Rookh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, with 
a sigh, "Is it, then, all over? Are we now at the 
close of all that has given us so much delight? and 
lives there no poet who will impart to others, and to 
future times, some notion of the happiness we have 
enjoyed this evening?" On hearing this appeal a 
Knight of Cashmere (who is no other than the poeti- 
cal Baron himself) comes forward and promises to 
attempt to present to the world "the Poem itself in 
the measure of the original : " — whereupon Lalla 
Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled. 

1 Since this was written, another translation of " Lalla Rookh " 
into German verse has been made by Theodor Oelckers (Leipzig, 
Tauchnitz). 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface 5 

Contents 21 

Lalla Rookh 23 

The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 29 

Paradise and the Peri 11 1 

The Fire-Worshippers 138 

The Light of the Haram 217 



LALLA ROOKH. 



In the eleventh year of the reign of Auriingzebe, 
Abdalla, King of the Lesser Bucharia, a hneal de- 
scendant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated the 
throne in favor of his son, set out on a pilgrimage to 
the Shrine of the Prophet ; and, passing into India 
through the delightful valley of Cashmere, rested for 
a short time at Delhi on his way. He was enter- 
tained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnificent hospi- 
tality, worthy alike of the visitor and the host, and 
was afterwards escorted with the same splendor to 
Surat, where he embarked for Arabia. i During the 
stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a marriage was 
agreed upon between the Prince, his son, and the 
youngest daughter of the emperor, Lalla Rookh ; ^ 
— a Princess described by the Poets of her time as 
more beautiful than Leila, ^ Shirine,* Dewild6,5 or any 
of those heroines whose names and loves embellish 
the songs of Persia and Hindostan. It was intended 
that the nuptials should be celebrated at Cashmere ; 
where the young King, as soon as the cares of empire 
would permit, was to meet, for the first time, his 
lovely bride, and, after a few months' repose in that 
enchanting valley, conduct her over the snowy hills 
into Bucharia. 

23 



24 LALLA KOOKH. 

The day of Lalla Rookh's departure from Delhi 
was as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could 
make it. The bazaars and baths were all covered 
with the richest tapestry ; hundreds of gilded barges 
upon the Jumna floated with their banners shining in 
the water ; while through the streets groups of beau- 
tiful children went strewing the most delicious flowers 
around, as in that Persian festival called the Scatter- 
ing of the Roses ; ^ till every part of the city was as 
fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten had 
passed through it. The Princess, having taken leave 
of her kind father, who at parting hung a cornelian 
of Yemen round her neck, on which was inscribed a 
verse from the Koran, and having sent a considerable 
present to the Fakirs, who kept up the Perpetual 
Lamp in her sister's tomb, meekly ascended the 
palankeen prepared for her ; and, while Aurungzebe 
stood to take a last look from his balcony, the pro- 
cession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. 

Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade so 
superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to the 
Imperial palace, it was one unbroken line of splendor. 
The gallant appearance of the Rajahs and Mogul 
Lords, distinguished by those insignia of the Em- 
peror's favor, "^ the feathers of the egret of Cashmere 
in their turbans, and the small silver-rimmed kettle- 
drums at the bows of their saddles ; — the costly 
armor of their cavaliers, who vied, on this occasion, 
with the guards of the great Keder Khan,^ in the 
brightness of their silver battle-axes and the massi- 
ness of their maces of gold ; — the glittering of the 
gilt pine-apples ^ on the tops of the palankeens ; — • 



LALLA ROOKH. 25 

the embroidered trappings of the elephants, bearing 
on their backs small turrets, in the shape of little 
antique temples, within which the Ladies of Lalla 
RoOKH lay as it were enshrined ; — the rose-colored 
veils of the Princess's own sumptuous litter,!*^ at the 
front of which a fair young female slave sat fanning 
her through the curtains, with feathers of the Argus 
pheasant's wing ; ^^ — and the lovely troop of Tar- 
tarian and Cashmerian maids of honor, whom the 
young King had sent to accompany his bride, and 
who rode on each side of the litter, upon small 
Arabian horses : — all was brilliant, tasteful, and 
magnificent, and pleased even the critical and fastidi- 
ous Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamberlain of the 
Haram, who was borne in his palankeen immediately 
after the Princess, and considered himself not the 
least important personage of the pageant. 

Fadladeen was a judge of everything, — from the 
pencilling of a Circassian's eyelids to the deepest 
questions of science and literature ; from the mixture 
of a conserve of rose-leaves to the composition of an 
epic poem : and such influence had his opinion upon 
the various tastes of the day, that all the cooks and 
poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His political 
conduct and opinions were founded upon that line of 
Sadi, — " Should the Prince at noon-day say, It is 
night, declare that you behold the moon and stars." 
— And his zeal for religion, of which Aurungzebe 
was a munificent protector, i- was about as disinter- 
ested as that of the goldsmith who fell in love with 
the diamond eyes of the Idol of Jaghernaut.^^ 



2 6 LALLA ROOKH. 

During the first days of their journe}', Lalla 
RoOKH, who had passed all her life within the shadow 
of the Royal Gardens of Delhi, !■* found enough in the 
beauty of the scenery through which they passed to 
interest her mind, and delight her imagination ; and 
when at evening or in the heat of the day, they 
turned off from the high road to those retired and 
romantic places which had been selected for her 
encampments, sometimes on the banks of a small 
rivulet, as clear as the waters of the Lake of Pearl ; ^^ 
sometimes under the sacred shade of a Banyan tree, 
from which the view opened upon a glade covered 
with antelopes ; and often in those hidden, embow- 
ered spots, described by one from the Isles of the 
West,^*^ as "places of melancholy, delight, and 
safety, where all the company around w^ere wild pea- 
cocks and turtle-doves ; " — she felt a charm in these 
scenes, so lovely and so new to her, which, for a 
time, made her indifferent to every other amusement. 
But Lalla Rookh was young, and the young love 
variety ; nor could the conversation of her Ladies 
and the Great Chamberlain, Fadladeen (the only 
persons of course admitted to her pavilion), suffi- 
ciently enliven those many vacant hours, which were 
devoted neither to the pillow nor the palankeen. 
There was a little Persian slave who sung sweetly to 
the Vina, and who, now and then, lulled the Princess 
to sleep with the ancient ditties of her country, about 
the loves of Wamak and Ezra,!"!" the fair-haired Zal 
and his mistress Rodahver ; i^ not forgetting the 
combat of Rustam with the terrible White Demon. ^^ 
At other times she was amused by those graceful 



LALLA ROOKH. 27 

dancing-girls of Delhi, who had been permitted by 
the Bramins of the Great Pagoda to attend her, 
much to the horror of the good Mussulman Fadla- 
DEEN, who could see nothing graceful or agreeable 
in idolaters, and to whom the very tinkling of their 
golden anklets-^ was an abomination. 

But these and many other diversions were repeated 
till they lost all their charm, and the nights and 
noon-days were beginning to move heavily, when, at 
length, it was recollected that, among the attendants 
sent by the bridegroom, was a young poet of Cash- 
mere, much celebrated throughout the valley for his 
manner of reciting the Stories of the East, on whom 
his Royal Master had conferred the privilege of being 
admitted to the pavilion of the Princess, that he 
might help to beguile the tediousness of the journey 
by some of his agreeable recitals. At the mention 
of a poet, Fadladeen elevated his critical eyebrows, 
and, having refreshed his faculties with a dose of that 
delicious opium ^i which is distilled from the black 
poppy of the Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel 
to be forthwith introduced into the presence. 

The Princess, who had once in her life seen a poet 
from behind the screens of gauze in her Father's hall, 
and had conceived from that specimen no very favor- 
able ideas of the Caste, expected but little in this 
new exhibition to interest her ; — she felt incHned, 
however, to alter her opinion on the very first appear- 
ance of Feramorz. He was a youth about Lalla 
Rookh's own age, and graceful as that idol of 



23 LALLA ROOKH. 

women, Crishna,^^ — such as he appears to their 
young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, breathing 
music from his very eyes, and exahing the rehgion 
of his worshippers into love. His dress was simple, 
yet not without some marks of costliness ; and the 
Ladies of the Princess were not long in discovering 
that the cloth which encircled his high Tartarian cap 
was of the most delicate kind that the shawl-goats of 
Tibet supply. '-^^ Here and there, too, over his vest, 
which was confined by a flowered girdle of Kashan, 
hung strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of 
studied negligence : — nor did the exquisite embroid- 
ery of his sandals escape the observation of these 
fair critics ; who, however they might give way to 
Fadladeen upon the unimportant topics of religion 
and government, had the spirit of martyrs in every- 
thing relating to such momentous matters as jewels 
and embroidery. 

For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recita- 
tion by music, the young Cashmerian held in his 
hand a kitar ; — such as, in old times, the Arab 
maids of the West used to listen to by moonlight in 
the gardens of the Alhambra — and having premised, 
with much humility, that the story he was about to 
relate was founded on the adventures of that Veiled 
Prophet of Khorassan'-* who, in the year of the 
Hegira 163, created such alarm throughout the East- 
ern Empire, made an obeisance to the Princess, and 
thus began : — 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN.^ 



In that delightful Province of the Sun, 
The first of Persian lands he shines upon, 
Where all the loveliest children of his beam, 
FlowVets and fruits, blush over every stream,-^ 
And, fairest of all streams, the Murga roves 
Among Merou's ''^'^ bright palaces and groves ; — 
There on that throne, to which the blind belief 
Of millions rais'd him, sat the Prophet-Chief, 
The Great Mokanna. O'er his features hung 
The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung 
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 
For, far less luminous, his votaries said. 
Were ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed 
O'er MoussA's 28 cheek,^^ when down the Mount he 

trod. 
All glowing from the presence of his God ! 

On either side, with ready hearts and hands. 
His chosen guard of bold Believers stands ; 
Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords. 
On points of faith, more eloquent than words ; 
And such their zeal, there's not a youth with brand 
Uplifted there, but, at the Chief's command, 
29 



30 LALLA ROOKH. 

Would make his own devoted heart its sheath. 
And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! 
In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night, ^^ 
Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; 
Their weapons various — some equipp'd for speed, 
With javelins of the light Kathaian reed ; ^i 
Or bows of buffalo horn and shining quivers 
FilPd with the stems ^'^ that bloom on Iran's rivers ; ^ 
While some, for war's more terrible attacks. 
Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe ; 
And as they wave aloft in morning's beam 
The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem 
Like a chenar-tree grove, ^^ when winter throws 
O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. 

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold. 
Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise. 
Where, through the silken network, glancing eyes, 
From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow 
Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp be- 
low. — 
What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare 
To hint that aught but Heaven hath placed you 

there ? 
Or that the loves of this light world could bind. 
In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind.? 
No — wrongful thought ! — commission'd from above 
To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, 
(Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes 
They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) 
There to recline among Heaven's native maids, 



^ 




i ^ 





" Low as 5^oung Azim knelt." 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 31 

And crown the Elect with bliss that never fades — 

Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done ; 

And every beauteous race beneath the sun, 

From those who kneel at Brahma's burning founts, ^^ 

To the fresh nymphs bounding o"er Yemen's mounts ; 

From Persia's eyes of full and fawn-like ray 

To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay ; ^^ 

And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker smiles, 

And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles ; 

All, all are there ; — each Land its flower hath given, 

To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! 

But why this pageant now ? this arm'd array ? 
What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
With turban'd heads, of every hue and race, 
Bowing before that veil'd and awful face, 
Like tulip-beds,^'' of different shape and dyes, 
Bending beneath the invisible West-wind's sighs ! 
What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign. 
And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, 
What dazzling mimicry of God's own power 
Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this hour ? 

Not such the pageant now, though not less proud ; 
Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd. 
With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape, 
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape, ^^ 
So fiercely beautiful in form and eye. 
Like war's wild planet in a summer sky ; 
That youth to-day — a proselyte, worth hordes 
Of cooler spirits and less practised swords — 
Is come to join, all bravery and belief. 
The creed and standard of the heaven-sent Chief. 



32 LALLA ROOKH. 

Though few his years, the West already knows 
Young AziM^s fame ; — beyond the Olympian snows, 
Ere manhood darkened o'er his downy cheek, 
O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the Greek, ^^ 
He lingered there, till peace dissolv'd his chains ; — 
Oh, who could, even in bondage, tread the plains 
Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
Kindling within him? who, with heart and eyes. 
Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 
The shining footprints of her Deity, 
Nor feel those godlike breathings in the air, 
Which mutely told her spirit had been there ? 
Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
For his souFs quiet work'd the awakening spell ; 
And now, returning to his own dear land. 
Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, 
Haunt the young heart, — proud views of human- 
kind, 
Of men to Gods exalted and refined, — 
False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, 
Where earth and heaven but seejti, alas, to meet! — 
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was raised 
To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd 
On the white flag Mokanna's host unfurl'd. 
Those words of sunshine, " Freedom to the World," 
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey'd 
The inspiring summons ; every chosen blade 
That fought beneath that banner's sacred text 
Seem'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the next ; 
And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage 

bind 
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 33 

In virtue's cause ; — never was soul inspird 
With livelier trust in what it most desirM, 
Than his, the enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale 
With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, 
Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 
Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 
This fetterM world from every bond and stain, 
And bring its primal glories back again ! 

Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd 
Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd. 
With shouts of " Alla ! " echoing long and loud ; 
While high in air, above the Prophet's head, 
Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
The flying throne of star-taught Soliman.'*'^ 
Then thus he spoke: — "Stranger, though new the 

frame 
Thy soul inhabits now, I've tracked its flame 
For many an age,"*^ in every chance and change 
Of that existence, through whose varied range, — 
As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand. 
The flying youths transmit their shining brand, — 
.From frame to frame the unextinguish'd soul 
Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 

" Nor think 'tis only the gross Spirits, warm'd 
With duskier fire and for earth's medium form'd, 
That run this course ; — Beings, the most divine. 
Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 
Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, 
To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt :*2 



34 LALLA KOOKH. 

Such the refin'd Intelligence that glowM 

In Moussa's"*^ frame, — and, thence descending, 

flow'd 
Through many a Prophet's breast ; ** — in ISSA ** 

shone. 
And in Mohammed burn'd ; till, hastening on, 
(As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
In many a maze descending, bright through all. 
Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past, 
In one full lake of light it rests at last ! ) 
That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free 
From lapse or shadow, centres all in me ! " 

Again, throughout the assembly, at these words, 
Thousands of voices rung : the warriors' swords 
Were pointed up to heaven ; a sudden wind 
In the open banners play'd, and from behind 
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen 
The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen 
Waving embroidered scarves, whose motion gave 
A perfume forth ; — like those the Houris wave 
When beck'ning to their bowers the immortal Brave. 

" But these," pursued the Chief, " are truths sub- 
Hme, 
That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
Than earth allows us now ; — this sword must first 
The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst 
Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
Her wakening daylight on a v/orld of sin. 
But then, celestial warriors, then, when all 
Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall : 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAA^. 35 

When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay down 
His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, 
The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, 
And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
That whole dark pile of human mockeries ; — 
Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth, 
And starting fresh, as from a second birth, 
Man, in the sunshine of the w^orld's new spring. 
Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ! 
Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow 
Shall cast the Veil that hides his splendors now, 
And gladdened Earth shall, through her wide expanse. 
Bask in the glories of this countenance ! 
For thee, young warrior, welcome ! — thou hast yet 
Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget. 
Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave ; — 
But, once my own, mine all till in the grave ! " 

The pomp is at an end — the crowds are gone — 
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 
Of that deep voice, which thrilPd like Alla's own ! 
The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances. 
The glittering throne, and Haram's half-caught 

glances ; 
The Old deep pondering on the promised reign 
Of peace and truth ; and all the female train 
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze ! 

But there was one, among the chosen maids. 
Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades, 



36 LALLA ROOKH. 

One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 

Has been like death : — you saw her pale dismay, 

Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 

Of exclamation from her lips, when first 

She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, 

Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne. 

Ah Zelica ! there was a time, when bliss 
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his ; 
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer ; 
When round him hung such a perpetual spell. 
Whatever he did none ever did so well. 
Too happy days ! when, if he touch'd a flower 
Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour ; 
When thou didst study him till every tone 
And gesture and dear look became thy own, — 
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace : 
Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice the aerial sweetness it had brought ! 
Yet now he comes, — brighter than even he 
E'er beam'd before, — but, ah ! not bright for thee ; 
No — dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant 
From the other world, he comes as if to haunt 
Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight, 
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight : — 
Sad dreams ! as when the Spirit of our Youth 
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
And innocence once ours, and leads us back. 
In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track 
Of our young life, and points out every ray 
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way ! 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 37 

Once happy pair ; — in proud Bokhara's groves, 
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves? 
Born by that ancient flood, ^^ which from its spring 
In the dark Mountains swiftly wandering, 
Enrich'd by every pilgrim brook that shines 
With relics from Bucharia's ruby mines, 
And lending to the Caspian half its strength, 
In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length ; — 
There, on the banks of that bright river born, 
The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn, 
Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by, 
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
And virgin-glance of first aff'ection cast 
Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd ! 
Bat war disturbed this vision, — far away 
From her fond eyes summoned to join the array 
Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace, 
The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelling-place 
For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash ; 
His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash 
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains 
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains. 

Month after month, in widowhood of soul , 
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 
Their suns away — but ah ! how cold and dim 
Even summer suns, when not beheld with him! 
From time to time ill-omen'd rumors came. 
Like spirit-tongues mutt'ring the sick man's name, 
Just ere he dies : — at length those sounds of dread 
Fell withering on her soul, " AziM is dead ! " 
Oh Grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate 
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 



38 LALLA ROOKH. 

In the wide world, without that only tie 
For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die ; — 
Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken 
Since the sad day its master-chord was broken ! 
Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, 
Even reason sunk, — blighted beneath its touch : 
And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose 
Above the first dead pressure of its woes, 
Though health and bloom returned, the delicate 

chain 
Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again. 
Warm, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day. 
The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray ; — 
A wand'ring bark, upon whose pathway shone 
All stars of heaven, except the guiding one ! 
Again she smiPd, nay, much and brightly smil'd, 
But Hwas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 
And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, 
'Twas hke the notes, half ecstasy, half pain, 
The bulbul*'' utters, ere her soul depart. 
When, vanquished by some minstrePs powerful art, 
She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her 

heart ! 

Such was the mood in which that mission found 
Young Zelica, — that mission, which around 
The Eastern world, in every region blest 
With woman's smile, sought out its lovehest, 
To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes 
Which the Veil'd Prophet destined for the skies : — 
And such quick welcome as a spark receives 
Dropp'd on a bed of Autumn's witherd leaves, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 39 

Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 

In the wild maiden's sorrow-bhghted mind. 

All fire at once the maddening zeal she caught ; — 

Elect of Paradise ! blest, rapturous thought ! 

Predestined bride, in heaven's eternal dome, 

Of some brave youth — ha! durst they say " of 

some f " 
No — of the one, one only object trac'd 
In her heart's core too deep to be efifac'd ; 
The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd 
With every broken link of her lost mind ; 
Whose image lives, though Reason's self be wreck'd, 
Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect ! 

Alas, poor Zelica ! it needed all 
The fantasy which held thy mind in thrall, 
To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
A sainted colony for Eden's shades ; 
Or dream that he, — of whose unholy flame 
Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here ! 
No — had not Reason's light totally set, 
And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart. 
Which would have sav'd thee from the tempter's art. 
And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath. 
That purity, whose fading is love's death ! — 
But lost, inflamed, — a restless zeal took place 
Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace ; 
First of the Prophet's favorites, — proudly first 
In zeal and charms, — too well the Impostor nurs'd 



40 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her souPs delirium, in whose active flame, 

Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame, 

He saw more potent sorceries to bind 

To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind, 

More subtle chains than hell itself e'er twin'd. 

No art was spared, no witchery ; — all the skill 

His demons taught him was employed to fill 

Her mind with gloom and ecstasy by turns — 

That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer 

burns ; 
That ecstasy, which from the depth of sadness 
Glares like the maniac's moon, whose light is mad- 
ness. 

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound 
Of poesy and music breathM around, 
Together picturing to her mind and ear 
The glories of that heaven, her destined sphere, 
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay 
Upon the spirit's light should pass away. 
And, realizing more than youthful love 
E'er wish'd or dream'd, she should forever rove 
Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side. 
His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride ! — 
'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this. 
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss. 
To the dim charnel-house ; — through all its steams 
Of damp and death, led only by those gleams 
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
To show the gay and proud, she too can shine ! — 
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead, 
Which to the maiden, doubly craz'd by dread. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 41 

Seem'd, through the bhiish death-light round them 

cast, 
To move their lips in mutterings as she passed — 
There, in that awful place, when each had quaff 'd 
And pledg'd in silence such a fearful draught, 
Such — oh ! the look and taste of that red bowl 
Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
By a dark oath, in helPs own language framed. 
Never, while earth his mystic presence claimed, 
While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both, 
Never, by that all-imprecating oath, 
In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 

She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, "Never, 



From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
To him and — she believed, lost maid ! — to Heaven ; 
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed, 
How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam'd 
The Priestess of the Faith ! — how flash'd her eyes 
With light, alas ! that was not of the skies. 
When round, in trances, only less than hers. 
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers! 
Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
Had spells enough to make the world his own : — 
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play 
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray. 
When from its stem the small bird wings away : 
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiPd, 
The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 
As are the momentary meteors sent 
Across the uncalm, but beauteous firmament. 



42 LALLA ROOKH. 

And then her look — oh ! where's the heart so wise 
Could unbewilderM meet those matchless eyes ? 
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, 
Like those of angels, just before their fall ; 
Now shadowed with the shames of earth — now 

crost 
By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost ; 
In evVy glance there broke, without control. 
The flashes of a bright but troubled soul, 
Where sensibility still wildly play'd. 
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! 

And such was now young Zelica — so changed 
From her who, some years since, delighted rangM 
The almond groves that shade Bokhara's tide, 
All life and bliss, with Azim by her side ! 
So altered was she now, this festal day. 
When, 'mid the proud Divan's dazzling array, 
The vision of that Youth whom she had lov'd, 
Had wept as dead, before her breath'd and mov'd ; — 
When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden's 

track 
But half-way trodden, he had wander'd back 
Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light — 
Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight. 

O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew, 
When least we look for it, thy broken clew! 
Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain 
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 
And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 
Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend within, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 43 

One clear idea, waken'd in the breast 

By memory's magic, lets in all the rest ! 

Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee ! 

But though light came, it came but partially ; 

Enough to show the maze in which thy sense 

Wander'd about, — but not to guide it thence ; 

Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave. 

But not to point the harbor which might save. 

Hours of delight and peace, long left behind, 

With that dear form came rushing o''er her mind ; 

But, oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone 

In shame and falsehood since those moments shone ; 

And, then, her oath — there madness lay again, 

And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 

Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee 

From light, whose every glimpse was agony ! 

Yet, one relief this glance of former years 

Brought, mingled with its pain, — tears, floods of 

tears. 
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills, 
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost. 
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost. 

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
Trembled with horror, when the summons came 
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she 
And she till now, had heard with ecstasy) 
To meet Mokanna at his place of prayer, 
A garden oratory, cool and fair, 
By the stream's side, where still at close of day 
The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray ; 



44 LALLA ROOKH. 

Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with one, 
One chosen nymph to share his orison. 

Of late none found such favor in his sight 
As the young Priestess ; and though, since that 

night 
When the death-caverns echoed every tone 
Of the dire oath that made her all his own, 
The Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize. 
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise, 
And utter'd such unheavenly, monstrous things. 
As even across the desp'rate wanderings 
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out. 
Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt ; — 
Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow. 
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow. 
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceaPd, 
Would soon, proud triumph ! be to her reveal'd, 
To her alone ; — and then the hope, most dear. 
Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire, 
From which the spirit would at last aspire, 
Even purer than before, — as perfumes rise 
Through flame and smoke, most welcome to the 

skies — 
And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace 
Should circle her in heaven, no darkening trace 
Would on that bosom he once lov'd remain. 
But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! — 
These were the wildering dreams, whose curst deceit 
Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's feet, 
And made her think even damning falsehood sweet. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 45 

But now that Shape, which had appall -d her view, 

That Semblance — oh, how terrible, if true ! — 

Which came across her frenzy's full career 

With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe, 

As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark. 

An isle of ice encounters some swift bark, 

And, startling all its wretches from their sleep, 

By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep ; — 

So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear, 

And waking up each long-lulPd image there, 

But check'd her headlong soul, to sink it in despair ! 

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk. 
She now went slowly to that small kiosk. 
Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
MOKANNA waited her — too rapt in dreams 
Of the fair-rip'ning future's rich success. 
To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless. 
That sat upon his victim's downcast brow, 
Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd now 
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
Came like a spirit's o'er the unechoing ground, — 
From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance ! 

Upon his couch the Veil'd Mokanna lay. 
While lamps around — not such as lend their ray. 
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray 
In holy KoOM, *^ or Mecca's dim arcades, — 
But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow. 



46 LALLA ROOKH. 

Beside him, ^stead of beads and books of prayer, 

Which the world fondly thought he musM on there, 

Stood vases, filPd with Kishmee's*^ golden wine, 

And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; 

Of which his curtained lips full many a draught 

Took zealously, as if each drop they quafTM, 

Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness, ^^ had power 

To freshen the souPs virtues into flower ! 

And still he drank and pondered — nor could see 

The approaching maid, so deep his reverie ; 

At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which 

broke 
From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke : — 
*' Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given. 
Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven; 
God's images, forsooth ! — such Gods as he 
Whom India serves, the monkey deity ;^i — 
Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, 
To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 
Refus'd, though at the forfeit of heaven's light. 
To bend in worship, Lucifer was right ! ^- — 
Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck 
Of your foul race, and without fear or check, 
Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, 
My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's name ; 
Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce 
As hooded falcons, through the universe 
I'll sweep my darkening, desolating way. 
Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey ! 

" Ye wise, ye learn'd, who grope your dull way on 
By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 47 

Like superstitious thieves, who think the hght 
From dead men's marrow guides them best at 

night S3 — 
Ye shall have honors — wealth, — yes, Sages, yes — 
1 know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness ; 
Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, 
But a gilt stick, a bauble blinds it here. 
How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, 
In lying speech, and still more lying song. 
By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the throng ; 
Their wits brought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, 
A sceptre's puny point can wield it all ! 

" Ye too, believers of incredible creeds. 
Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; 
Who, bolder even than Nemrod, think to rise, 
By nonsense heap'd on nonsense, to the skies ; 
Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too. 
Seen, heard, attested, ev'ry thing — but true. 
Your preaching zealots, too inspired to seek 
One grace of meaning for the things they speak ; 
Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood 
For truths too heavenly to be understood ; 
And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore 
That works salvation ; — as, on Ava's shore. 
Where none but priests are privileged to trade 
In that best marble of which Gods are made ; ^* 
They shall have mysteries — ay, precious stuff 
For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough ; 
Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, 
Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, 
While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 



48 LALLA ROOKH. 

A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust, — 
A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must : 
That Prophet ill sustains his holy call. 
Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all ; 
Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, 
And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. 
Vain things ! — as lust or vanity inspires, 
The Heaven of each is but what each desires. 
And, soul or sense, whatever the object be, 
Man would be man to all eternity ! 
So let him — Eblis ! grant this crowning curse. 
But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse." 

" Oh my lost soul ! " exclaimed the shuddering 
maid, 
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said : — 
MOKANNA started — not abash'd, afraid, — 
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles ! 
But, in those dismal words that reachM his ear, 
" Oh my lost soul ! " there was a sound so drear, 
So like that voice, among the sinful dead, 
In which the legend o'er HelPs Gate is read, 
That, new as 'twas from her, whom nought could 

dim 
Or sink till now, it startled even him. 

" Ha, my fair Priestess ! " — thus, with ready wile. 
The impostor turn'd to greet her — "thou, whose 

smile 
Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 
Beyond the Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream ! 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 49 

Light of the faith ! who twin'st religion's zeal 
So close with love's, men know not which they feel, 
Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart. 
The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art ! 
What should I be without thee? without thee 
How dull were power, how joyless victory! 
Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine 
Bless'd not my banner, 'twere but half divine. 
But — why so mournful, child? those eyes, that 

shone 
All life last night — what ! — is their glory gone ? 
Come, come — this morn's fatigue hath made them 

pale, 
They want rekindling — suns themselves would fail, 
Did not their comets bring, as I to thee. 
From light's own fount supplies of brilliancy. 
Thou see'st this cup — no juice of earth is here. 
But the pure waters of that upper sphere, 
Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow, 
Catching the gem's bright color as they go. 
Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns — 
Nay, drink — in every drop life's essence burns; 
'Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light — 
Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night : — 
There is a youth — why start ? — thou saw'st him then ; 
Look'd he not nobly? such the godlike men 
Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above ; — 
Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love. 
Too rul'd by that cold enemy of bliss 
The world calls virtue — we must conquer this ; — 
Nay, shrink not, pretty sage ! 'tis not for thee 
To scan the mazes of Heaven's mystery : 



50 - LALLA ROOKH. 

The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield 

Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. 

This very night I mean to try the art 

Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart. 

All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, 

Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite. 

Shall tempt the boy; — young Mirzala's blue eyes, 

Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; 

Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 

And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 

Have magic in their pressure ; Zeba's lute. 

And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot 

Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep — 

All shall combine their witching powers to steep 

My convert's spirit in that soft'ning trance, 

From which to heaven is but the next advance • 

That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast. 

On which Religion stamps her image best. 

But hear me, Priestess ! — though each nymph of these 

Hath some peculiar, practised power to please. 

Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried. 

First charms herself, then all the world beside ; 

There still wants one, to make the victory sure. 

One who in every look joins every lure ; 

Through whom all beauty's beams concentred pass, 

Dazzling and warm, as through love's burning glass ; 

Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 

Whose words, ev'n when unmeaning, are ador'd, 

Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 

Which our faith takes for granted are divine ! 

Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light, 

To crown the rich temptations of to-night : 



VEILED PROPHET OF KIIORASSAN. 51 

Such the refin'd enchantress that must be 
This hero's vanquisher, — and thou art she ! " 

With her hands clasp'd, her Hps apart and pale, 
The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 
From which these words, like south winds through a 

fence 
Of Kerzrah flowers, came filPd with pestilence ; ^ 
So boldly utter'd too ! as if all dread 
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled. 
And the wretch felt assured that, once plungM in, 
Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin ! 

At first, though mute she Hsten'd, like a dream 
Seem'd all he said : nor could her mind, whose beam 
As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 
But when, at length, he utter'd, " Thou art she !" 
All flashed at once, and shrieking piteously, 
*'0h not for worlds !" she cried — "Great God! to 

whom 
I once knelt innocent, is this my doom? 
Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss, 
My purity, my pride, then come to this, — 
To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be 
The pander of his guilt — oh infamy ! 
And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep 
In its hot flood, drag others down as deep ! 
Others — ha! yes — that youth who came to-day — 
Not him 1 lov'd — not him — oh ! do but say, 
But swear to me this moment 'tis not he. 
And 1 will serve, dark fiend, will worship even 

thee ! " 



52 LALLA ROOKH. 

'* Beware, young raving thing ! — in time beware, 
Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear. 
Even from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy voice, 
The boy must feel their magic ; — 1 rejoice 
To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, 
Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes ; 
And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall 

warm, 
Itideed resemble thy dead lover's form, 
So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, 
As one warm lover, full of life and bloom, 
Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. 
Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet! — those eyes were 

made 
For love, not anger — I must be obeyed." 

" Obey'd ! — 'tis well — yes, I deserve it all — 
On me, on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall 
Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true 
And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too ? 
Mu'st he too, glorious as he is, be driven 
A renegade like me from Love and Heaven? 
Like me? — weak wretch, 1 wrong him — not like me ; 
No — he's all truth and strength and purity ! 
Fill up your madd'ning hell-cup to the brim. 
Its witch'ry, fiends, will have no charm for him. 
Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers. 
He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers ! 
Wretch as I am, in his heart still 1 reign 
Pure as when first we met, without a stain ! 
Though ruin'd — lost — my memory, like a charm 
Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 53 

Oh ! never let him know how deep the brow 
He kiss'd at parting is dishonor'd now ; — 
Ne'er tell him how debased, how sunk is she, 
Whom once he lov'd — once! — still loves dotingly. 
Thou laugh'st, tormentor, — what ! thou'lt brand my 

name? 
Do, do — in vain — he'll not believe my shame — 
He thinks me true ; that nought beneath God's sky 
Could tempt or change me, and — so once thought I. 
But this is past — though worse than death my lot, 
Than hell — 'tis nothing while he knows it not. 
Far off to some benighted land I'll fly, 
Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die ; 
Where none will ask the lost one whence she came, 
But I may fade and fall without a name. 
And thou — curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art, 
Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart, 
And spread'st it — oh, so quick ! — through soul and 

frame. 
With more than demon's art, till I became 
A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame ! — 
If when I'm gone " 

*' Hold, fearless maniac, hold, 
Nor tempt my rage — by Heaven, not half so bold 
The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum 
Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come ! ^ 
And so thou'lt fly, forsooth ? — what ! — give up all 
Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, 
Where now to Love and now to Alla given, 
Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even 
As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heaven! 
Thou'lt fly ! — as easily may reptiles run. 



54 LALLA ROOKH. 

The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon ; 

As easily, when caught, the prey may be 

Pluck'd from his loving folds, as thou from me. 

No, no, 'tis fix'd — let good or ill betide, 

ThouVt mine till death, till death Mokanna's bride ! 

Hast thou forgot thy oath?" — 

At this dread word, 
The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr'd 
Through all its depth, and rous'd an anger there, 
That burst and lightened ev'n through her despair — 
Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath 
That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as death. 

" Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers 
Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours ! 
Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality ; 
Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were 

wed, 
And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead, 
(Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt,) 
From reeking shrouds upon the rite look'd out ! 
That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine re- 
peat — 
That cup — thou shudd'rest. Lady, — was it sweet? 
That cup we pledged, the charnePs choicest wine, 
Hath bound thee — ay, body and soul all mine ; 
Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst 
No matter now, not hell itself shall burst ! 
Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 
Look wild, look — anything but sad ; yet stay — 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 55 

One moment more — from what this night hath 

passed, 
I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at last. 
Ha ! ha ! and so, fond thing, thou thoughf st all true, 
And that I love mankind? — I do, I do — 
As victims, love them ; as the sea-dog doats 
Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats ; 
Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
That rank and venomous food on which she 

lives ! 5^ — 

*' And, now thou see^st my soiiVs angelic hue, 
'Tis time these features were uncurtain'd too ; — 
This brow, whose light — oh rare celestial light ! 
Hath been reserved to bless thy favor'd sight ; ' 

These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might 
Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake — 
Would that they were heaven's lightnings for his 

sake ! 
But turn and look — then wonder, if thou w^ilt. 
That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, 
Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth 
Sent me thus maim'd and monstrous upon earth ; 
And on that race who, though more vile they be 
Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me ! 
Here — judge if hell, with all its power to damn. 
Can add one curse to the foul thing I am ! " 

He rais'd his veil — the Maid turned slowly round, 
Looked at him — shrieked — and sunk upon the 
ground ! 



56 LALLA ROOKH. 

On their arrival, next night, at the place of en- 
campment, they were surprised and delighted to find 
the groves all around illuminated ; some artists of 
Yamtcheou^^ having been sent on previously for the 
purpose. On each side of the green alley, which led 
to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo- 
v/ork^^ were erected, representing arches, minarets, 
and towers, from which hung thousands of silken 
lanterns, painted by the most delicate pencils of 
Canton. Nothing could be more beautiful than the 
leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, shining in the 
light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a lustre 
round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan. 

• Lalla Rookh, however, who was too much occu- 
pied by the sad story of Zelica and her lover, to 
give a thought to anything else, except, perhaps, him 
who related it, hurried on through this scene of splen- 
dor to her pavilion, — greatly to the mortification of 
the poor artists of Yamtcheou, — and was followed 
with equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, curs- 
ing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose 
parental anxiety in lighting up the shores of the 
lake, where his beloved daughter had wandered and 
been lost, was the origin of these fantastic Chinese 
illuminations. 6^ 

Without a moment's delay, young Feramorz was 
introduced, and Fadladeen, who could never make 
up his mind as to the merits of a poet till he knew 
the religious sect to v/hich he belonged, v/as about to 
ask him v/hethcr he was a Shia or a Sooni, when 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 57 

Lalla Rookh impatiently clapped her hands for 
silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud 
near her, proceeded : — 



Prepare thy soul, young Azim ! — thou hast bravM 

The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved ; 

Hast faced her phalanx, armM with all its fame, 

Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame ; 

All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, 

But a more perilous trial waits thee now, — 

Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes 

From every land where woman smiles or sighs ; 

Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise 

His black or azure banner in their blaze ; 

And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 

That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash, 

To the sly, stealing splendors, almost hid, 

Like swords half-sheath'd, beneath the downcast 

lid: — 
Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host 
Now led against thee ; and, let conquerors boast 
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 
A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms. 
Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, 
Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights 
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ; — 
From room to room the ready handmaids hie. 
Some skill'd to wreathe the turban tastefully. 
Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade. 
O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 



58 LALLA ROOKH. 

Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, 

Like Seba's Queen could vanquish with that one : ei — 

While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue 

The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue,^^ 

So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem 

Like tips of coral branches in the stream ; 

And others mix the KohoFs jetty dye, 

To give that long, dark languish to the eye,'^^ 

Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull 

From fair Circassians vales, so beautiful. 

All is in motion ; rings and plumes and pearls 

Are shining everywhere : — some younger girls 

Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds. 

To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; — 

Gay creatures ! sweet, though mournful, 'tis to see 

How each prefers a garland from that tree 

Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day, 

And the dear fields and friendships far away. 

The maid of India, blest again to hold 

In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold,^* 

Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood, 

Her little playmates scatter'd many a bud 

Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam 

Just dripping from the consecrated stream ; 

While the young Arab, haunted by the smell 

Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell, — 

The sweet Elcaya,*^^ and that courteous tree 

Which bows to all who seek its canopy,^° 

Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents, 

The well, the camels, and her father's tents ; 

Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 

And wishes even its sorrows back agam ! 




Meanwhile, thrnuoh vast 
illuminated halls." 



VEILED PROPHET OF KIIORASSAN. 59 

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, 
Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls 
Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound 
From many a jasper fount, is heard around. 
Young AziM roams bewildered, — nor can guess 
What means this maze of light and loneliness. 
Here, the way leads, o'er tesselated floors 
Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 
Where, ranged in cassolets and silver urns, 
Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; 
And spicy rods, such as illume at night 
The bowers of Tibet, ^^ send forth odorous light, 
Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road 
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode : — 
And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as 

noon ; 
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
High as the enamelPd cupola, which towers 
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers : 
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through 
The sprinkling of that fountain's silv'ry dew, 
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, 
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. 

Here, too, he traces the kind visitings 
Of woman's love in those fair, living things 
Of land and wave, whose fate — in bondage thrown 
For their weak lovehness — is like her own ! 
On one side gleaming with a sudden grace 
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase 



6o LALLA ROOKH. 

In which it undulates, small fishes shine, 

Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; — 

While, on the other, latticed lightly in 

With odoriferous woods of Comorin,^^ 

Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; — 

Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between 

The crimson blossoms of the coral tree ^^ 

In the warm Isles of Indians sunny sea : 

Mecca's blue sacred pigeon,'^'' and the thrush 

Of Hindostan,'^ whose holy warblings gush, 

At evening, from the tall pagoda's top ; — 

Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop 

About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food '^ 

Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer 

flood ; ^3 
And those that under Araby's soft sun 
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon : '^^ 
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly 
Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
Sleeping in light, like the green birds '^ that dwell 
In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel ! 

So on, through scenes past all imagining, 
More like the luxuries of that impious King,'^^ 
Whom Death's dark angel, with his lightning 

torch. 
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure's porch, 
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, 
Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchise- 
ment — 
Young AzTM wander'd, looking sternly round. 
His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 6 1 

But ill according with the pomp and grace 
And silent lull of that voluptuous place. 

"Is this, then," thought the youth, "is this the 

way 
To free man's spirit from the deadening sway 
Of worldly sloth, — to teach him, while he lives, 
To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, 
And, when he dies, to leave his lofty name 
A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame ? 
It was not so. Land of the generous thought 
And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught ; 
It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 
Thy Freedom nurs'd her sacred energies ; 
Oh ! not beneath the enfeebling, withering glow 
Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow. 
With which she wreathM her sword, when she would 

dare 
Immortal deeds ; but in the bracing air 
Of toil, — of temperance, — of that high, rare, 
Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe 
Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath. 
Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, — 
This speck of life in time's great wilderness. 
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
The past, the future, two eternities ! — 
Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare. 
When he might build him a proud temple there, 
A name, that long shall hallow all its space. 
And be each purer souPs high resting-place? 
But no — it cannot be, that one, whom God 
Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, — 



62 LALLA ROOKH. 

A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws 

Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its 

cause 
With the world's vulgar pomp ; — no, no, — I see — 
He thinks me weak — this glare of luxury- 
Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 
Of my young soul — shine on, 'twill stand the 

blaze ! "'' 

So thought the youth ; — but, ev'n while he 
defied 
This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide 
Through evVy sense. The perfume breathing round, 
Like a pervading spirit ; — the still sound 
Of falling waters, lulling as the song 
Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 
Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep 
In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ; "^ 
And music, too — dear music ! that can touch 
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much — 
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem 
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; 
All was too much for him, too full of bliss. 
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this ; 
Soften'd he sank upon a couch, and gave 
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave 
Succeeding to smooth seas, when storms are laid ; 
He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, 
And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, 
They sat and looked into each other's eyes, 
Silent and happy — as if God had given 
Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 63 

*' Oh, my lov'd mistress, thou, whose spirit still 
Is with me, round me, wander where I will — 
It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
The paths of glory ; to light up thy cheek 
With warm approval — in that gentle look 
To read my praise, as in an angePs book, 
And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 
I gain a smile worth immortality ! 
How shall I bear the moment when restored 
To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 
Though of such bliss unworthy, — since the best 
Alone deserve to be the happiest ; — 
When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for years, 
I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, 
And find those tears warm as when last they started, 
Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted? 
O my own Hfe ! — why should a single day, 
A moment, keep me from those arms away?^' 

While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze 
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies, 
Each note of which but adds new, downy links 
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and far away 
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play 
Of countless lamps, — like the rich track which Day 
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us, 
So long the path, its light so tremulous ; — 
He sees a group of female forms advance. 
Some chained together in the mazy dance 
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers. 
As they were captives to the King of Flowers ; '^ 



64 LALLA ROOKH. 

And some disporting round, unlink'd and free, 
Who seem'd to mock their sisters' slavery ; 
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight, 
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night ; 
While others walk'd, as gracefully along 
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song, 
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, 
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still. 
And now they come, now pass before his eye, 
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie 
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things, 
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. 
Awhile they dance before him, then divide, 
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 
Till silently dispersing, one by one 
Through many a path, that from the chamber leads 
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads. 
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind. 
And but one trembling nymph remains behind, 
Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone. 
And she is left in all that light alone ; 
No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow. 
In its young bashfulness more beauteous now ; 
But a light golden chain-work round her hair, "^^ 
Such as the maids of Yezd ^o and Shiras wear. 
From which, on either side, gracefully hung 
A golden amulet, in the Arab tongue 
Engraven o'er with some immortal line 
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine ; 
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood. 
Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 65 

Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain, 

Then took her trembling fingers off again. 

But when at length a timid glance she stole 

At AziM, the sweet gravity of soul 

She saw through all his features calm'd her fear, 

And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near, 

Though shrinking still, she came ; — then sat her 

down 
Upon a musnud's ^^ edge, and, bolder grown. 
In the pathetic mode of Isfahan ^^ 
Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began : 



There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's ^^ stream, 
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; 

In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 

That bower and its music I never forget, 

But oft when alone in the bloom of the year, 

I think — is the nightingale singing there yet? 
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer? 

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave. 
But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly 
they shone. 
And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave 
All the fragrance of summer, when summer was 
gone. 

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies. 
An essence that breathes of it many a year ; 

Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes. 
Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer. 



66 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Poor maiden ! " thought the youth, " if thou wert 
sent, 
With thy soft kite and beauty's blandishment, 
To wake unholy wishes in this heart, 
Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art. 
For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, 
Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay 
Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day. 
And leads thy soul — if e'er it wander'd thence — 
So gently back to its first innocence, 
That I would sooner stop the unchain'd dove, 
When swift returning to its home of love. 
And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, 
Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine ! " 

Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling 
through 
The gently open'd curtains of light blue 
That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes, 
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, 
Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
That sat so still and melancholy there : — 
And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine 
Which those without fling after them in play, 
Two lightsome maidens spring, — lightsome as 

they 
Who live in the air on odors, — and around 
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, 
Chase one another, in a varying dance 
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, I 

'1 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 67 

Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit : — 
While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
Her dream of home, steals timidly away. 
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray, — 
But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain, 
Creatures of light we never see again ! 

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc'd 
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd 
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er 
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ; ^* 
While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall 
Of curls descending, bells as musical 
As those that, on the golden-shafted trees 
Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze, ^^ 
Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, 
As 'twere the ecstatic language of their feet. 
At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreath'd 
Within each other's arms ; while soft there breath'd 
Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs 
Of moonlight flowers, music that seem'd to rise 
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose ; 
And, as it swell'd again at each faint close. 
The ear could track, through all that maze of chords 
And young sweet voices, these impassion'd words : 



A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 
Is burning now through earth and air : 

Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh ; 
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there ! 



68 LALLA ROOKH. 

His breath is the soul of flowers like these, 
And his floating eyes — oh ! they resemble ^^ 

Blue water-lilies,^'^ when the breeze 

Is making the stream around them tremble. 

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power ! 

Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss ! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour. 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 

By the fair and brave 

Who blushing unite. 
Like the sun and wave, 

When they meet at night ; 

By the tear that shows 

When passion is nigh, 
As the rain-drop flows 

From the heat of the sky ; 

By the first love-beat 

Of the youthful heart, 
By the bliss to meet, 

And the pain to part ; 

By all that thou hast 

To mortals given. 
Which — oh, could it last. 

This earth were heaven ! 

We call thee hither, entrancing Power! 

Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss ! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour. 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAiY. 69 

Impatient of a scene whose luxuries stole, 
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul. 
And where, midst all that the young heart loves 

most — 
Flowers, music, smiles — to yield was to be lost, 
The youth had started up, and turned away 
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay, 
To muse upon the pictures that hung round, ^^ — 
Bright images, that spoke without a sound ; 
And views, like vistas into fairy ground. 
But here again new spells came o'er his sense : — 
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence 
Could call up into life, of soft and fair, 
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there ; 
Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art 
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 
Which knows even Beauty when half-veiPd is best, 
Like her own radiant planet of the west. 
Whose orb when half-retir'd looks loveliest. ^^ 
There hung the history of the Genii-King, 
Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering 
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright 

eyes 
He read that to be blest is to be wise ; ^'^ — 
Here fond Zuleika^^ woos with open arms 
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, 
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone. 
Wishes that Heaven and she could both be won ; 
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile 
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile ; — 
Then beckons some kind angel from above 
With a new text to consecrate their love.^'^ 



70 LALLA ROOKH. 

With rapid step, yet pleas'd and lingering eye, 
Did the youth pass these pictured stories by. 
And hastened to a casement, where the Hght 
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 
As if no life remained in breeze or rill. 
Here paus'd he, while the music, now less near, 
Breath'd with a holier language on his ear, 
As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
Through which the sounds came floating, took away 
All that had been too earthly in the lay. 

Oh ! could he listen to such sounds unmov'd. 
And by that light — nor dream of her he lov'd? 
Dream on, unconscious boy ! while yet thou may'st ; 
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart, 
Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. 
Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last, 
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast ; 
Recall her tears, to thee at parting given, 
Pure as they weep, ?/ angels weep, in Heaven. 
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now. 
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow, 
Yet shrin'd in solitude — thine all, thine only. 
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. 
Oh ! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed. 
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed ! 

The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are 
flown. 
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ; — 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 71 

Alone ? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh, 

That sob of grief, which broke from some one 

nigh — 
Whose could it be ? — alas ! is misery found 
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground? 
He turns, and sees a female form, close veiPd, 
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had faiPd, 
Against a pillar near ; — not glittering o'er 
With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, 
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress, ^^ 
Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness 
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away ; — 
And such as Zelica had on that day 
He left her — when, with heart too full to speak. 
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. 

A strange emotion stirs within him, — more 
Than mere compassion ever wak'd before ; 
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
Springs forward, as with life's last energy ,»> 
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, 
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground ; — 
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his knees — 
'Tis she herself! — 'tis Zelica he sees ! 
But, ah, so pale, so chang'd — none but a lover 
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover 
The once ador'd divinity — even he 
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd 
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd, 
Ere he could think she was indeed his own. 
Own darlinof maid, whom he so long had known 



72 LALLA KOOKH. 

In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 
Who, even when grief was heaviest — when loth 
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower, ^ 
When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. 

" Look up, my Zelica — one moment show 
Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, 
But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. 
Come, look upon thy AziM — one dear glance, 
Like those of old, were heaven ! whatever chance 
Hath brought thee here, oh, 'twas a blessed one ! 
There — my lov'd lips — they move — that kiss hath 

run 
Like the first shoot of life through every vein, 
And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. 
Oh the delight — now, in this very hour. 
When had me whole rich world been in my power, 
I should have singled out thee, only thee, 
From the whole world's collected treasury — 
To have thee here — to hang thus fondly o'er 
My own, best, purest Zelica once more ! " 

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips 
Upon her eyes that chas'd their short eclipse ; 
And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven's breath. 
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, 
Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were seen 
Gazing on his — not, as they late had been. 
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene; 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN: 73 

As if to lie, even for that tranced minute, 

So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 

And thus to wake in his belov'd caress 

Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 

But, when she heard him call her good and pure, 

Oh, 'twas too much — too dreadful to endure! 

ShuddYing she broke away from his embrace, 

And, hiding with both hands her guilty face. 

Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven 

A heart of very marble, " Pure ! — oh. Heaven ! " — 

That tone — those looks so changed — the wither- 
ing blight 
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light ; 
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes. 
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, 
He would have seen himself, too happy boy, 
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ; 
And then the place, — that bright, unholy place, 
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves, ^^ — 
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold 
As death itself; — it needs not to be told — • 
No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 
Of burning shame can mark — whatever the hand. 
That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever 
Tis done — to Heaven and him she's lost forever! 
It was a dreadful moment ; not the tears, 
The lingering, lasting misery of years 
Could match that minute's anguish — all the worst 
Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst 



74 LALLA ROOKH. 

Broke o^er his soul, and, with one crash of fate, 
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. 

" Oh ! curse me not," she cried, as wild he toss'd 
His desperate hand towVd Heaven — "though I am 

lost. 
Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall : 
No, no — 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all ! 
Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love hath 

ceas'd — 
I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least. 
That every spark of reason's light must be 
Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee. 
They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, why 
Did we not, both of us, that instant die 
When we were parted.'' Oh! couldst thou but 

know 
With what deep devotedness of woe 
I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again 
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
And memory, like a drop that, night and day, 
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. 
Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, 
My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come. 
And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, 
Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear — 
O God ! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last, 
When every hope was all at once o'ercast. 
When I heard frightful voices round me say, 
Azini is dead I — this wretched brain gave way, 
And I became a wreck, at random driven. 
Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven — 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 75 

All wild — and even this quenchless love within 

Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin ! — 

Thou pitiest me — I knew thou wouldst — that 

sky 
Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 
The fiend who lur'd me hither — hist ! come near, 
Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear — 
Told me such things — oh ! with such devilish art 
As would have ruiu'd even a holier heart — 
Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere. 
Where bless'd at length, if I but serv'd hitn here, 
I should forever live in thy dear sight. 
And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. 
Think, think how lost, how madden'd I must be, 
To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee ! 
Thou weep'st for me — do weep — oh, that I durst 
Kiss off that tear ! but, no — these lips are curst, 
They must not touch thee ; — one divine caress. 
One blessed moment of forgetfulness 
IVe had within those arms, and that shall lie, 
Shrin'd in my soul's deep memory till I die ; 
The last of joy's last relics here below. 
The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, 
My heart has treasurd from affection's spring, 
To soothe and cool its deadly withering ! 
But thou — yes, thou must go — forever go ; 
This place is not for thee — for thee ! (51i no ! 
Did I but tell thee half, thy torturd brain 
Would burn like mine, and mine grow wild again ! 
Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once 

good, 
Now tainted, chilPd, and broken, are his food. — 



76 LALLA ROOKH. 

Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
A flood of headlong fate between our souls, 
Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
As hell from heaven, to all eternity ! " 

"Zelica, Zelica!" the youth exclaimed, 
In all the tortures of a mind inflam'd 
Almost to madness — " by that sacred Heaven, 
Where yet, if prayers can move, thou'lt be for- 
given. 
As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart, 
All sinful, wild, and ruin'd as thou art ! 
By the remembrance of our once pure love. 
Which, like a churchyard light, still burns above 
The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee 
Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me ! 
I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence — 
If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, 

Fly with me from this place " 

"With thee! oh bliss! 
'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. 
What! take the lost one with thee? — let her rove 
By thy dear side, as in those days of love. 
When we were both so happy, both so pure — 
Too heavenly dream ! if there's on earth a cure 
For the sunk heart, 'tis this — day after day 
To be the blest companion of thy way ; 
To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
Those virtuous eyes forever turned on me ; 
And, in their light re-chasten'd silently, 
Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun. 
Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 77 

And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt — 
At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt 
Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine eyes, 
Full of sweet tears, unto the darkening skies, 
And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare 
To fix my own weak, sinful glances there ; 
Till the good angels, when they see me cling 
Forever near thee, pale and sorrowing. 
Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven. 
And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven ! 
Oh yes, Til fly with thee " 

Scarce had she said 
These breathless words, when a voice deep and 

dread 
As that of MONKER, waking up the dead 
From their first sleep — so startling 'twas to both — 
Rung through the casement near, "Thy oath! thy 

oath ! " 
Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid's look! — 
" Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook 
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes. 
Though through the casement, now, nought but the 

skies 
And moonlit fields were seen, calm as before — 
" Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o'er — 
Go — fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too — 
My oath, my oath, O God ! 'tis all too true. 
True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
I am Mokanna's bride — his, Azim, his — 
The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow ; 
Their blue lips echo'd it — I hear them now ! 



78 LALLA ROOKH. 

Their eyes glared on me, while I pledgM that bowl : 
'Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul ! 
And the VeiPd Bridegroom — hist ! Fve seen to- 
night 
What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 
So horrible — oh ! never may'st thou see 
What there lies hid from all but hell and me ! 
But I must hence — oif, off — I am not thine, 
Nor Heaven"'s, nor Love's, nor aught that is divine — 
Hold me not — ha ! think'st thou the fiends that 

sever 
Hearts, cannot sunder hands? — thus, then — for- 



With all that strength which madness lends the 
weak. 
She flung away his arm ; and, with a shriek. 
Whose sound, though he should linger out more 

years 
Than wretch e'er told, can never leave his ears — 
Flew up through that long avenue of light. 
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night 
Across the sun, and soon was out of sight ! 



Lalla Rookh could think of nothing all day but 
the misery of these two young lovers. Her gayety 
was gone, and she looked pensively even upon Fad- 
LADEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort 
of uneasy pleasure in imagining that Azim must have 
been just such a youth as Feramorz ; just as worthy 
to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KH OR ASS AN. 79 

of that illusive passion which too often, like the 
sunny apples of Istkahar,^^ is all sweetness on one 
side, and all bitterness on the other. 

As they passed along a sequestered river after sun- 
set, they saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank,^^ 
whose employment seemed to them so strange that 
they stopped their palankeens to observe her. She 
had lighted a small lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, 
and, placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a 
wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling 
hand to the stream ; and was now anxiously watching 
its progress down the current, heedless of the gay 
cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. Lalla 
ROOKH was all curiosity; — when one of her attend- 
ants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges 
(where this ceremony is so frequent, that often, in 
the dusk of the evening, the river is seen glittering 
all over with lights, like the Oton-tala, or Sea of 
Stars ^s), informed the Princess that it was the usual 
way in which the friends of those who had gone on 
dangerous voyages offered up vows for their safe 
return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen 
was disastrous ; but if it went shining down the 
stream, and continued to burn until entirely out of 
sight, the return of the beloved object was considered 
as certain. 

Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than once 
\ looked back to observe how the young Hindoo's 
/ lamp proceeded ; and, while she saw with pleasure 
; that it was still unextinguished, she could not help 



8o LALLA ROOKH. 

fearing that all the hopes of this life were no better 
than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder 
of the journey was passed in silence. She now, for 
the first time, felt that shade of melancholy which 
comes over the youthful maiden's heart, as sweet and 
transient as her own breath upon a mirror ; nor was 
it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, touched lightly 
at the door of her pavilion, that she waked from the 
reverie in which she had been wandering. Instantly 
her eyes were lighted up with pleasure ; and after a 
few unheard remarks from Fadladeen, upon the 
indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a 
Princess, everything was arranged as on the preceding 
evening, and all listened with eagerness, while the 
story was thus continued : — 



Whose are the gilded tents that crown the way, 
Where all was waste and silent yesterday? 
This City of War, which, in a few short hours. 
Hath sprung up here,^^ as if the magic powers 
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star. 
Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar,ioo 
Had conjurM up, far as the eye can see, 
This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright 

armory : — 
Princely pavilions, screened by many a fold 
Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold : — 
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 
Their chains and poitrels, glittering in the sun ; 
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells, ^^^ 
Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells i 



VEILED EROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 8i 

But yester-eve, so motionless around, 
So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
But 'the far torrent, or the locust bird^'^^ 
Hunting among the thickets, could be heard ; — 
Yet hark ! what discords now, of every kind, 
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the 

wind ; 
The neigh of cavalry ; — the tinkling throngs 
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs ; i'^^ — 
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — 
War music, bursting out from time to time. 
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime ; — 
Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, 
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute. 
That far ofi^, broken by the eagle note 
Of the Abyssinian trumpat,!'^* swell and float. 

Who leads this. mighty army? — ask ye " who?" 
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, 
The Night and Shadow, ^"^ over yonder tent? — 
It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms. 
That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms. 
And of his host of infidels, who hurPd 
Defiance fierce at Islam ^"^^ and the world, — 
Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclin'd, 
Yet brook'd he not such blasphemy should stain, 
Thus unreveng'd, the evening of his reign ; 
But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave ^^"^ 
To conquer or to perish, once more gave 



82 LALLA ROOKH. 

His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, 
And with an army, nursM in victories, 
Here stands to crush the rebels that overrun 
His blest and beauteous Provinc3 of the Sun. 

Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display 
Such pomp before ; — not even when on his way 
To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea 
Were spoiPd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury ; ^'^^ 
When round him, 'mid the burning sands, he saw 
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, 
And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow 
Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow : i°^ — 
Nor e'er did armament more grand than that 
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. 
First, in the van, the People of the Rock,^^'^ 
On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock : ^ 
Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry ; i'"^ — 
Men from the regions near the Volga's mouth, 
Mix'd with the rude, black archers of the South ; 
And Indian lancars, in w^hite-turbanM ranks. 
From the far Sinde, or Attock's sacred banks. 
With duGky legions from the land of Myrrh, ii^ 
And many a mace-arm'd Moor and Mid-sea islander. 

Nor less in number, though more new and rude 
In warfare's school, was the vast multitude 
That, fir'd by zeal, or by oppression wrong'd. 
Round the white standard of the Impostor throng'd. 
Beside his thousand of Believers — blind. 
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind — 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. %2> 

Many who felt, and more who feard to feel 

The bloody Islamite's converting steel, 

Flock'd to his banner ; — Chiefs of the Uzbek 

race, 
Waving their heron crests with martial grace ; ^^^ 
TuRKOMAxNS, countless as their flocks, led forth 
From the aromatic pastures of the North ; 
Wild warriors of the turquoise hills, ^^^ — and those 
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
Of Hindoo Kosh,^^° in stormy freedom bred. 
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed. 
But none, of all who own'd the Chiefs command, 
RushM to that battle-field with bolder hand, 
Or sterner hate, than Iran's outlaw'd men, 
Her Worshippers of Fire ^^^ — all panting then 
For vengeance on the accursed Saracen ; 
Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn'd, 
Her throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines o'erturn'd. 
From Yezd's^^^ eternal Mansion of the Fire, 
Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire : 
From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
That burn into the Caspian, ^^^ fierce they came, 
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, 
So vengeance triumph'd, and their tyrants bled. 

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, 
That high in air their motley banners tost 
Around the Prophet-Chief — all eyes still bent 
Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went, 
That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, 
That rainbow of the field, whose showers were 
blood. 



84 LALLA ROOKH. 

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, 
And risen again, and found them grapphng yet ; 
While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, 
Smoke up to Heaven — hot as that crimson haze 
By which the prostrate Caravan is aw'd, ^-^ 
In the red Desert, when the wind's abroad. 
"On, Swords of God!" the panting Caliph 

calls, — 
"Thrones for the living — Heaven for him who 

falls ! " 
" On, brave avengers, on," Mokanna cries, 
" And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies !" 
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — 
They clash — they strive — the Caliph's troops give 

way ! 
Mokanna's self plucks the black Banner down, 
And now the Orient World's Imperial crown 
Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that shout ! 
Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslems' rout ; 
And now they turn, they rally — at their head 
A warrior, (like those angel youths who led. 
In glorious panoply of heaven's own mail. 
The Champions of the Faith through Beder's 

vale, 1-^1) 
Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, 
Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives 
At once the multitudinous torrent back — 
While hope and courage kindle in his track ; 
And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 
Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 
In vain Mokanna, 'midst the general flight. 
Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 85 

Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, 
Leave only her unshaken in the sky — 
In vain he yells his desperate curses out, 
Deals death promiscuously to all about, 
To foes that charge and coward friends that fly, 
And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy. 
The panic spreads — "A miracle ! " throughout 
The Moslem ranks, "a miracle ! " they shout, 
All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ; 
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim 
The needle tracks the lodestar, following him ! 

Right towards MOKANNA now he cleaves his path. 
Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst 
From weaker heads, and souls but half way curst. 
To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst ! 
But vain his speed — though, in that hour of blood, 
Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood, 
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
Mokanna's soul would have defied them all ; 
Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
For human force, hurries even hiin along ; 
In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array 
Of flying thousands — he is borne away ; 
And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, 
In this forc'd flight, is — murdering as he goes! 
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might 
Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night. 
Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched flocks, 
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, 



86 LALLA ROOKH. 

And, to the last, devouring on his way, 
Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay. 

" Alia ilia Alia ! " — the glad shout renew — 
" Alia Akbar ! " 122 _ ^^g Caliph^s in Merou. 
Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, 
And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets. ^-^ 
The Swords of God have triumph'd — on his throne 
Your Caliph sits, and the VeiPd Chief hath flown. 
Who does not envy that young warrior now, 
To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, 
In all the graceful gratitude of power, 
For his throne's safety in that perilous hour? 
Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the acclaim 
Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name — 
'Mid all those holier harmonies of fame, 
Which sound along the path of virtuous souls. 
Like music round a planet as it rolls, — - 
He turns away — coldly, as if some gloom 
Hung o'er his heart no triumphs can illume ; — 
Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 
Though Glory's light may play, in vain it plays? 
Yes, wretched Azim ! thine is such a grief, 
Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; 
A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break. 
Or warm or brighten, — like that Syrian Lake, ^^^ 
Upon whose surface morn and summer shed 
Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead ! — 
Hearts there have been, o'er which this weight of woe 
Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow ; 
But thine, lost youth ! was sudden — over thee 
It broke at once, when all seem'd ecstasy ; 



VEILED PROPHET OF K HO PASS AN. 87 

When Hope look'd up, and saw the gloomy Past 
Melt into splendor, and Bliss dawn at last — 
^Twas then, even then, o'er joys so freshly blown. 
This mortal blight of misery came down ; 
Even then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart 
Were check'd — like fount-drops, frozen as they 

start — 
And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang. 
Each fix'd and chilFd into a lasting pang. 

One sole desire, one passion now remains 
To keep life's fever still within his veins. 
Vengeance ! — dire vengeance on the wretch who 

cast 
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast. 
For this, when rumors reach'd him in his flight 
Far, far away, after that fatal night, — 
Rumors of armies, thronging to the attack 
Of the Veird Chief, — for this he wing'd him back, 
Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurPd, 
And, when all hope seem'd desperate, wildly hurl'd 
Himself into the scale, and saved a world. 
For this he still lives on, careless of all 
The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall ; 
For this alone exists — like lightning-fire, 
To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! 

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives ; 
With a small band of desperate fugitives, 
The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, 
Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, 



88 LALLA ROOKH. 

He gain'd Merou — breath'd a short curse of blood 
O'er his lost throne — then pass'd the Jihon's 

flood, 1^5 
And gathering all, whose madness of belief 
Still saw a Saviour in their down-fall'n Chief, 
RaisM the white banner within Neksheb's gates, ^^^ 
And there, untam'd, the approaching conquYor waits. 

Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, 
With music and with sweets sparkling alive, 
He took but one, the partner of his flight, 
One — not for love — not for her beauty's light — 
No, Zelica stood withering 'midst the gay, 
Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 
From the Alma tree and dies, while overhead 
To-day's young flower is springing in its stead. ^'^^^ 
Oh, not for love — the deepest Damn'd must be 
Touch'd with Heaven's glory, ere such fiends as he 
Can feel one glimpse of Love's divinity. 
But no, she is his victim ; there lie all 
Her charms for him — charms that can never pall, 
As long as hell within his heart can stir. 
Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. 
To work an angel's ruin, — to behold 
As white a page as Virtue e'er unroll'd 
Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll 
Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul — 
This is his triumph ; this the joy accurst. 
That ranks him among demons all but first : 
This gives the victim, that before him lies 
Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, 
A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 
The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes ! 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 89 

But other tasks now wait him — tasks that need 
All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
With which the Dives ^^^ have gifted him — for mark, 
Over yon plains, which night had else made dark, 
Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
That spangle India's fields on showery nights, ^'^^ — 
Far as their formidable gleams they shed, 
The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread. 
Glimmering along the horizon's dusky line, 
And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 
Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town 
In all its arm'd magnificence looks down. 
Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements 
MoKANNA views that multitude of tents ; 
Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset. 
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ; — 
That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay. 
Even thus a match for myriads such as they. 
"Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing. 
Who brush'd the thousands of the Assyrian King ^^^ 
To darkness in a moment, that I might 
People Hell's chambers with yon host to-night ! 
But, come what may, let who will grasp the throne, 
Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan ; 
Let who will torture him — Priest, Caliph, King — 
Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 
With victims' shrieks, and bowlings of the slave, — 
Sounds that shall glad me even within my grave ! " 
Thus, to himself; but to the scanty train 
Still left around him, a far different strain : — 
" Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown 
I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood shall 
drown. 



90 LALLA ROOKIL 

Nor shadow of earth eclipse ; — before whose gems 
The paly pomp of this world's diadems, 
The crown of Gerashid, the pillared throne 
Of Parviz, 131 and the heron crest that shone, ^^'^ 
Magnificent, o'er Ali's beauteous eyes, ^^^ 
Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies : 
Warriors, rejoice — the port to which we've pass'd 
O'er Destiny's dark wave, beams out at last ! 
Victory's our own — 'tis written in that Book 
Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, 
That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power 
Of her great foe fall broken in that hour. 
When the moon's mighty orb, before ail eyes, 
From Neksheb's Holy Well portentously shall rise ! 
Now turn and see ! " — 

They turn'd, and, as he spoke, 
A sudden splendor all around them broke. 
And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
Rise from the Holy Well,!^* and cast its light 
Round the rich city and the plain for miles, ^^^ — 
Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles 
Of many a dome and fair-roof'd minaret 
As autumn suns shed round them when they set. 
Instant from all who saw the illusive sign 
A murmur broke — " Miraculous ! divine !" 
The Gheber bow'd, thinking his idol star 
Had wak'd and burst impatient through the bar 
Of midnight, to inflame him to the war ; 
While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray. 
The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day, 
Had rested on the Ark,i36 and now again 
Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 91 

" To victory ! '' is at once the cry of all — 
Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call ; 
But instant the huge gates are flung aside, 
And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide 
Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. 
The watchmen of the camp, — who, in their rounds, 
Had paus'd, and even forgot the punctual sounds 
Of the small drum with which they count the night, ^^^ 
To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 
Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, 
And in a death-groan give their last alarm. 
" On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen, ^^^ 
Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean ; 
There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky lance 
May now achieve mankind's deliverance." 
Desperate the die — such as they only cast 
Who venture for a world, and stake their last. 
But Fate's no longer with him — blade for blade 
Springs up to meet them through the glimmering 

shade. 
And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
Pour to the spot, Uke bees of Kauzeroon ^^^ 
To the shrill timbrel's summons, — till, at length, 
The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, 
And back to Neksheb's gates, covering Mie plain 
With random slaughter, drives the adventurous 

train ; 
Among the last of whom the Silver Veil 
Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail 
Of some toss'd vessel, on a stormy night, 
Catching the tempest's momentary light ! 



92 LALLA ROOKH. 

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low ? 
Nor dash'd his brow, nor check'd his daring ? No. 
Though half the wretches, whom at night he led 
To thrones and victory, lie disgrac'd and dead. 
Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest. 
Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest ; — 
And they believe him ! -— oh, the lover may 
Distrust that look which steals his soul away ; — 
The babe may cease to think that it can play 
With Heaven's rainbow ; — alchymists may doubt 
The shining gold their crucible gives out ; 
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 

And well the Impostor knew all lures and arts 
That Lucifer e'er taught to tangle hearts ; 
Nor, 'mid these last bold workings of his plot 
Against men's souls, is Zelica forgot. 
Ill-fated Zelica ! had reason been 
Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, 
Thou never couldst have borne it — Death had come 
At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 
But 'twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 
Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense 
And passionate struggles of that fearful night. 
When her last hope of peace and heaven took flight : 
And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, — 
As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke 
Ominous flashings now and then will start. 
Which show the fire's still busy at its heart, — 
Yet was she mostly wrapp'd in solemn gloom 5 
Not such as Azim's, brooding o'er its doom, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAiY. 93 

And calm without, as is tlie brow of death. 
While busy worms are gnawing underneath, — 
But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 
From thought or pain, a seaPd-up apathy, 
Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, 
The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will. 

Again, as in Merou, he had her deck'd 
Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect ; 
And led her glittering forth before the eyes 
Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice, — 
Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride 
Of the fierce Nile, when, deck'd in all the pride 
Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.^**^ 
And while the wretched maid hung down her head, 
And stood, as one just risen from the dead, 
Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell 
His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 
Possess'd her now, — and from that darkened trance 
Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance. 
Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, 
Her soul was rous'd, and words of wildness came. 
Instant the bold blasphemer would translate 
Her ravings into oracles of fate, — 
Would hail Heaven's signals in her flashing eyes, 
And call her shrieks the language of the skies ! 

But vain at length his arts — despair is seen 
Gathering around ; and famine comes to glean 
All that the sword had left unreap'd : — in vain 
At morn and eve across the northern plain 
He looks impatient for the promis'd spears 
Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers ; 



94 LALLA ROOKH. 

They come not — while his fierce beleaguerers pour 
Engines of havoc in, unknown before, ^*^ 
And horrible as new ; ^^^ — javelins, that fly 
Enwreath'd with smoky flames through the dark 

sky, 
And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount, 
Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount, ^^^ 
Showers of consuming fire o'er all below ; 
Looking, as through the illumin'd night they go. 
Like those wild birds ^'* that by the Magians oft, 
At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 
Into the air, with blazing fagots tied 
To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. 
All night the groans of wretches who expire 
In agony, beneath these darts of fire. 
Ring through the city — while, descending o'er 
Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore, — 
Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, 
Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolPd, — 
Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
Now gush with blood, — and its tall minarets. 
That late have stood up in the evening glare 
Of the red sun, unhallowed by a prayer ; — 
O'er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall. 
And death and conflagration throughout all 
The desolate city hold high festival ! 

MOKANNA sees the world is his no more : — 
One sting at parting, and his grasp is o'er. 
"What! drooping now?" — thus, with unblushing 

cheek, 
He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, 




Fell lifeless at 
her feet." 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN: 95 

Of all those famislVd slaves around him lying, 
And by the light of blazing temples dying ; — 
*' What! — drooping now? — now, when at length we 

press 
Home o'er the very threshold of success ; 
When Alla from our ranks hath thinn'd away 
Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 
Of favor from us, and we stand at length 
Heirs of his light and children of his strength. 
The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all ! 
Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are. 
All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star? 
Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid 
Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid 
Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? 
Long have its lightnings slept — too long — but 

now 
All earth shall feel the unveiling of this brow ! 
To-night — yes, sainted men ! this very night, 
I bid you all to a fair festal rite. 
Where — having deep refreshed each weary limb 
With viands, such as feast Heaven's cherubim, 
And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, 
With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids above 
Keep, seaPd with precious musk, for those they 

love,!''^ — 
I will myself uncurtain in your sight 
The wonders of this brow's ineffable light ; 
Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 
Yon myriads, howling through the universe ! " 



g6 LALLA ROOKH. 

Eager they listen, while each accent darts 
New life into their chilPd and hope-sick hearts ; 
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies 
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies ! 
Wildly they point their lances to the light 
Of the fast sinking sun, and shout " To-night!" — 
" To-night ! " their Chief re-echoes in a voice 
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. 
Deluded victims ! — never hath this earth 
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. 
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood 
This racking waste of famine and of blood. 
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out : — 
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, 
Danc'd like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, 
Among the dead and dying, strewed around ; — 
While some pale wretch look'd on, and from his 

wound 
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, 
In ghastly transport wav'd it o'er his head ! 

'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful pause 
Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause, 
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst. 
Where the VeiPd demon held his feast accurst, 
When Zelica — alas, poor ruin'd heart. 
In every horror doomed to bear its part ! — 
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, 
Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave. 
Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
Compass'd him round, and, ere he could repeat 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 97 

His message through, fell lifeless at her feet ! 
Shuddering she went — a soul-felt pang of fear, 
A presage that her own dark doom was near, 
RousM every feeling, and brought Reason back 
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
All round seemed tranquil — even the foe had ceas'd, 
As if aware of that demoniac feast, 
His fiery bolts ; and though the heavens looked red, 
'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread. 
But hark — she stops — she listens — dreadful tone, 
'Tis her Tormentor's laugh — and now, a groan, 
A long death-groan comes with it : — can this be 
The place of mirth, the bower of revelry? 
She enters — Holy Alla, what a sight 
Was there before her ! By the glimmering light 
Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of brands 
That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless hands. 
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, 
Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead — 
The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff'd, 
All gold and gems, but — what had been the draught? 
Oh ! who need ask, that saw those livid guests. 
With their swolPn heads sunk black'ning on their 

breasts. 
Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare. 
As if they sought but saw no mercy there ; 
As if they felt, though poison rack'd them through. 
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two ! 
While some, the bravest, hardiest of the train 
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain 
Would have met death with transport by his side, 
Here mute and helpless gasp'd ; — but, as they died, 



98 LALLA ROOKH. 

Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain, 
And clench'd the slackening hand at him in vain. 

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, 
The stony look of horror and despair. 
Which some of these expiring victims cast 
Upon their souls' tormentor to the last ; — 
Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now rais'd, 
Show'd them, as in death's agony they gazed, 
Not the long promis'd light, the brow, whose beaming 
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming. 
But features horribler than Hell e'er trac'd 
On its own brood ; — no Demon of the Waste, ^*^ 
No churchyard Ghole, caught lingering in the light 
Of the blest sun, e'er blasted human sight 
With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
The Impostor, now in grinning mockery, shows : — 
" There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your 

Star- 
ve would be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill 
Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? 
Swear that the burning death ye feel within 
Is but the trance with which Heaven's joys begin ; 
That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd 
Even monstrous man, is — after God's own taste; 
And that — but see ! — ere I have half-way said 
My greetings through, the uncourteous souls are fled. 
Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die, 
If Eblis loves you half so well as I. — 
Ha, my young bride ! — 'tis well — take thou thy seat ; 
Nay, come — no shuddering — didst thou never meet 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAX. 99 

The dead before? — they grac'd our wedding, sweet ; 
And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true 
Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. 
But — how is this? — all empty? all drunk up? 
Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, 
Young bride, — yet stay — one precious drop re- 
mains. 
Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins : — 
Here, drink — and should thy lover's conquering 

arms 
Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, 
Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 
And ril forgive my haughty rivaPs bliss ! 

*' For 7)ie — I too must die — but not like these 
Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze ; 
To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 
With all Death's grimness added to its own, 
And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
Of slaves, exclaiming, ' There his Godship lies!' 
No — cursed race — since first my soul drew breath, 
They've been my dupes, and shall be e'en in death. 
Thou see'st yon cistern in the shade — 'tis fiU'd 
With burning drugs, for this last hour distill'd : 1^^ 
There will 1 plunge me, in that liquid flame — 
Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame ! — 
There perish, all — ere pulse of thine shall fail — 
Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 
So shall my votaries, whereso'er they rave, 
Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave ; — 
That Pve but vanish'd from this earth awhile, ' 

To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile ! 



lOO LALLA ROOKH. 

So shall they build me altars in their zeal, 

Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel ; 

Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell. 

Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 

The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from 

hell! 
So shall my banner, through long ages, be 
The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy : — 
Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna's name, 
And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, 
Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife. 
And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life. 
But, hark ! their battering engine shakes the wall — 
Why, let it shake — thus 1 can brave them all. 
No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, 
And I can trust thy faith, for — thou'lt be dumb. 
Now mark how readily a wretch like me. 
In one bold plunge, commences Deity ! " 

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said — 
Quick clos'd the burning waters o'er his head, 
And Zelica was left — within the ring 
Of those wide walls the only living thing ; 
The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath, 
In all that frightful wilderness of death ! 
More like some bloodless ghost — such as, they tell. 
In the lone Cities of the Silent i*^ dwell. 
And there, unseen of all but Alla, sit 
Each by its own pale carcase, watching it. 

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAiY. loi 

Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent 

By Greece to conquering Mahadi) are spent ; 

And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 

From high ballistas, and the shielded throng 

Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, 

All speak the impatient Islamite's intent 

To try, at length, if tower and battlement 

And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win, 

Less tough to break down than the hearts within. 

First in impatience and in toil is he, 

The burning Azim — oh ! could he but see 

The Impostor once alive within his grasp, 

Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp, 

Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace 

With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace ! 

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls ; 
Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls. 
But still no breach — " Once more, one mighty swing 
Of all your beams, together thundering ! " 
There — the wall shakes — the shouting troops 

exult, 
*' Quick, quick discharge your weightest catapult 
Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own ! " 
'Tis done — the battlements come crashing down, 
And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two, 
Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew. 
Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. 
But strange ! no signs of life — nought living seen 
Above, below — what can this stillness mean? 
A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes — 
" In through the breach ! " impetuous Azim cries ; 



I02 LALLA ROOKH. 

But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 

In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile. — 

Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanced 

Forth from the min'd walls, and, as there glanc'd 

A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 

The well-known Silver Veil ! — " 'Tis He, 'tis He, 

MOKANNA, and alone ! " they shout around ; 

Young AziM from his steed springs to the ground — 

*' Mine, Holy Caliph! mine," he cries, " the task 

To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all 1 ask." 

Eager he darts to meet the demon foe. 

Who still across wide heaps of ruin slov\r 

And falteringly comes, till they are near ; 

Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear, 

And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 

Oh ! — 'tis his Zelica's life-blood that flows ! 

" I meant not, Azim," soothingly she said, 
As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head, 
And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear — 
" I meant not thou shouldst have the pain of this: — 
Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know 
How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so ! 
But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow ; — 
To linger on were maddening — and I thought 
If once that Veil — nay, look not on it — caught 
The eyes of your fierce soldiery, 1 should be 
Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. 
But this is sweeter — oh ! believe me, yes — 
I would not change this sad, but dear caress. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 103 

This death within thy arms I would not give 

For the most smiHng Hfe the happiest Hve ! 

All, that stood dark and drear before the eye 

Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by ; 

A light comes o'er me from those looks of love, 

Like the first dawn of mercy from above ; 

And if thy lips but tell me Pm forgiven, 

Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven ! 

But live, my Azim ; — oh ! to call thee mine 

Thus once again ! my Azim — dream divine ! 

Live, if thou ever lovMst me, if to meet 

Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 

Oh, live to pray for her — to bend the knee 

Morning and night before that Deity, 

To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, 

As thine are, Azim, never breathed in vain, — 

And pray that He may pardon her, — may take 

Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, 

And, nought remembering but her love to thee, 

Make her all thine, all His, eternally ! 

Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd 

Our youthful hearts together — every wind 

That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known 

flowers, 
Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours 
Back to thy soul, and mayst thou feel again 
For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. 
So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 
To Heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise 
With all love's earliest ardor to the skies ! 
And should they — but, alas, my senses fail — 
Oh for one minute ! — should thy prayers prevail — 



I04 LALLA KOOKH. 

If pardon'd souls may, from that World of Bliss, 
Reveal their joy to those they love in this — 
ni come to thee — in some sweet dream — and tell — 
Oh Heaven — I die — dear love ! farewell, farewell ! " 

Time fleeted — years on years had pass'd away, 
And few of those who, on that mournful day. 
Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
The maiden's death and the youth's agony. 
Were living still — when, by a rustic grave. 
Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave, 
An aged man, who had grown aged there 
By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer. 
For the last time knelt down — and, though the 

shade 
Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd 
A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek. 
That brighten'd even Death — like the last streak 
Of intense glory on the horizon's brim. 
When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim. 
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept ; 
She, for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept 
So many years, had come to him, all drest 
In angel smiles, and told him she was blest ! 
For this the old man breath'd his thanks, and died. — 
And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide. 
He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 



The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan being 
ended, they were now doomed to hear Fadladeen's 
criticisms upon it. A series of disappointments and 



LALLA ROOKH. 105 

accidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain 
during the journey. In the first place, those couriers 
stationed, as in the reign of Shah Jehan, between 
Delhi and the Western coast of India, to secure a 
constant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, had, 
by some cruel irregularity, failed in their duty ; and 
to eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of 
course, impossible. ^*^ In the next place, the ele- 
phant, laden with his fine antique porcelain, ^^ had, 
in an unusual fit of liveliness, shattered the whole set 
to pieces : — an irreparable loss, as many of the ves- 
sels were so exquisitely old, as to have been used 
under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned 
many ages before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran, 
too, supposed to be the identical copy between the 
leaves of which Mahomet's favorite pigeon used to 
nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three 
whole days ; not without much spiritual alarm to 
Fadladeen, who, though professing to hold with 
other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that salvation 
could only be found in the Koran, was strongly sus- 
pected of believing in his heart, that it could only be 
found in his own particular copy of it. When to all 
these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, 
in putting the pepper of Canara into his dishes instead 
of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily suppose 
that he came to the task of criticism with, at least, a 
sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. 

" In order," said he, importantly swinging about his 
chaplet of pearls, " to convey with clearness my 
opinion of the story this young man has related, it is 



lo6 LALLA ROOKH. 

necessary to take a review of all the stories that have 

ever " — " My good Fadladeen ! " exclaimed the 

Princess, interrupting him, "we really do not deserve 
that you should give yourself so much trouble. Your 
opinion of the poem we have just heard will, I have 
no doubt, be abundantly edifying, without any further 
waste of your valuable erudition," — "If that be all," 
replied the critic, — evidently mortified at not being 
allowed to show how much he knew about everything 
but the subject immediately before him, — "if that be 
all that is required the matter is easily despatched." 
He then proceeded to analyze the poem, in that strain 
(so well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi) 
whose censures were an infliction from which few re- 
covered, and whose very praises were like the honey 
extracted from the bitter flowers of the aloe. The 
chief personages of the story were, if he rightly un- 
derstood them, an ill-favored gentleman, with a veil 
over his face; — a young lady, whose reason went 
and came, according as it suited the poet's con- 
venience to be sensible or otherwise ; — and a 
youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bonnets, 
who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a 
Divinity. "From such materials," said he, "what 
can be expected ? — after rivalling each other in long 
speeches and absurdities, through some thousands of 
lines as indigestible as the filberts of Berdaa, our 
friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis ; the 
young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recom- 
mendation is that it is her last ; and the lover lives on 
to a good old age for the laudable purpose of seeing 
her ghost, which he at last happily accomplishes, and 



LALLA ROOKH. 107 

expires. This, you will allow, is a fair summary of 
the story ; and if Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told 
no better, ^51 our Holy Prophet (to whom be all honor 
and glory !) had no need to be jealous of his abilities 
for story-telling." 

With respect to the style, it was worthy of the 
matter ; — it had not even those politic contrivances 
of structure, which make up for the commonness of 
the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor 
that stately poetical phraseology by which senti- 
ments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith's ^^^ 
apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt and 
embroidered into consequence. Then, as to the ver- 
sification, it was, to say no worse of it, execrable : it 
had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweet- 
ness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi ; 
but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its 
movements, to have been modelled upon the gait of 
a very tired dromedary. The licenses, too, in which 
it indulged, were unpardonable; — for instance, this 
line, and the poem abounded with such : — 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 

"What critic that can count," said Fadladeen, 
*'and has his full complement of fingers to count 
withal, would tolerate for an instant such syllabic 
superfluities?" He here looked round, and discov- 
ered that most of his audience were asleep ; while 
the glimmering lamps seemed inclined to follow their 
example. It became necessary, therefore, however 
painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable 



io8 LALLA ROOKH. 

animadversions for the present, and he accordingly 
concluded, with an air of dignified candor, thus : 
" Notwithstanding the observations which I have 
thought it my duty to make, it is by no means my 
wish to discourage the young man : — so far from it, 
indeed, that if he will but totally alte'r his style of 
writing and thinking, I have very little doubt that I 
shall be vastly pleased with him." 

Some days elapsed after this harangue of the Great 
Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to 
ask for another story. The youth was still a wel- 
come guest in the pavilion — to 07ie heart, perhaps, 
too dangerously welcome : — but all mention of poetry 
was, as if by common consent, avoided. Though 
none of the party had much respect for Fadladeen, 
yet his censures, thus magisterially delivered, evi- 
dently made an impression on them all. The Poet 
himself, to whom criticism was quite a new operation 
(being wholly unknown in that Paradise of the Indies, 
Cashmere), felt the shock as it is generally felt at first, 
till use has made it more tolerable to the patient ; — 
the Ladies began to suspect that they ought not to 
be pleased, and seemed to conclude that there must 
have been much good sense in what Fadladeen 
said, from its having sent them all so soundly to 
sleep ; — while the self-complacent Chamberlain was 
left to triumph in the idea of having, for the hundred 
and fiftieth time in his life, extinguished a Poet. 
Lalla Rookh alone — and Love knew why — per- 
sisted in being delighted with all she had heard, 
and in resolving to hear more as speedily as pos- 



LALLA ROOKH. 109 

sible. Her manner, however, of first returning to 
the subject was unlucky. It was while they rested 
during the heat of noon near a fountain, on which 
some hand had rudely traced those well-known words 
from the Garden of Sadi, — "Many, like me, have 
viewed this fountain, but they are gone, and their 
eyes are closed forever ! " — that she took occasion, 
from the melancholy beauty of this passage to dwell 
upon the charms of poetry in general. "It is true," 
she said, "few poets can imitate that sublime bird, 
which flies always in the air, and never touches the 
earth : ^53 — it is only once in many ages a Genius 
appears, whose words, like those on the Written 
Mountain, last forever : i^* but still there are some, 
as delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, 
if not stars over our head, are at least flowers along 
our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we 
ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them 
for a brightness and durability beyond their nature. 
In short," continued she, blushing, as if conscious 
of being caught in an oration, "it is quite cruel that 
a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchant- 
ment, without having a critic forever, like the old 
Man of the Sea, upon his back ! *'' ^^^ — Fadladeen, 
it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to himself, 
and would treasure it up in his mind as a whetstone 
for his next criticism. A sudden silence ensued; 
and the Princess, glancing a look at Feramorz, saw 
plainly she must wait for a more courageous moment. 

But the glories of Nature, and her wild fragrant 
airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful 



no LALLA ROOKH. 

spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the 
dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an 
evening or two after, they caiv^ '-^ the small Valley 
of Gardens, which had been ^ .nted by order of the 
Emperor, for his favorite sister Rochinara, during 
their progress to Cashmere, some years before ; and 
never was there a more sparkling assemblage of 
sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of 
Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found 
that poetry, or love, or religion has ever consecrated ; 
from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his 
mistress's hair, '^^^ to the Cdjnalatd, by whose rosy 
blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented. ^^'^ As 
they sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, 
and Lalla Rookh remarked that she could fancy it 
the abode of that Flower-loving Nymph whom they 
worship in the temples of Kathay,is8 or of one of 
those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who 
live upon perfumes, and to whom a place like this 
might make some amends for the Paradise they have 
lost, — the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, 
while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual 
creatures she was describing, said hesitatingly that 
he remembered a Story of a Peri, which, if the 
Princess had no objection, he would venture to 
relate. " It is," said he, with an appealing look 
to Fadladeen, " in a lighter and humbler strain 
than the other;'' then, striking a few careless but 
melancholy chords on his kitar, he thus began : — 



PARADISE AND THE PERL 



One morn a Peri at the gate 
Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; 
And as she Hsten'd to the Springs 

Of Life within, Hke music flowing, 
And caught the hght upon her wings 

Through the half-open portal glowing, 
She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e'er have lost that glorious place ! 

" How happy," exclaimed this child of air, 
" Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall ; 
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, 
And the stars themselves have flowers for me. 

One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all. 

" Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, 
With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear, ^^^ 

And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall ; 
Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, 
And the golden floods that thitherward stray, i*^"^ 
Yet — oh, 'tis only the Blest can say 

How the waters of Heaven outshine them all ! 



j V 

112 LALLA R: JKH. 

" Go, wing t ,ght fro' -*''r to star, 
From world tc' lun-iino "' ■- as far 

As the universe sj .eads its flaming wall : 
Take all the pleasur of all the spheres, 
And multiply each through endless years, 

One minute of K iven is worth them all !" 

The glorious Angel, who was keeping 
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; 
And, as he nearer drew and listened 
To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd 
Within his eyelids, like the spray 

From Eden's fountain, when it lies 
On the blue flower, which — Bramins say — 

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. ^^^ 

" Nymph of a fair but erring line ! " 
Gently he said — " One hope is thine. 
'Tis written in the Book of Fate, 

^Ije Peri get mag be forgi\3nt 
a5Ei)0 brings to tljts lEtrrnal gate 

Cije (Sift tijat is most ticar to l^eabm! 
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 
'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in." 

Rapidly as comets run 

To the embraces of the Sun ; — 

Fleeter than the starry brands 

Flung at night from angel hands, ^^^ 

At those dark and daring sprites 

Who would climb the empyreal heights, 



PARADISE AND Th . RI. 1 13 

Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 
That just then broke from morning's eyes, 

Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 

But whither shall the Spirit go 

To find this gift for Heaven? — " I know 

The wealth," she cries, " of every urn, 

In which unnumber'd rubies burn. 

Beneath the pillars of Chilminar ; ^^^ 

I know where the Isles of Perfume are, 

Many a fathom down in the sea, 

To the south of sun-bright Araby ; ^^ 

I know, too, where the Genii hid 

The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid,!^^ 

With Life's elixir sparkHng high — 

But gifts like these are not for the sky. 

Where was there ever a gem that shone 

Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne ? 

And the Drops of Life — oh ! what would they be 

In the boundless Deep of Eternity?" 

While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd 
The air of that sweet Indian land. 
Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads 
O'er coral rocks, and amber beds : ^°^ 
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 
Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
Might be a Peri"s Paradise ! 



But < Imson r w ;c:i . i. ■:»■>. ghted, 

With i imap-blondT-k-the'sftv nntains,^'^ 
Came reeking froii.- .^iOi,\^ spicy bo > 
And man, the s^cri^reqfii^^r 'iie fountains 

Mingled his f^:?^ lihhx >se birth 
Upvvaftea trom the innocent xiv^h 
Land of the Sun, what foot invades 
Thy Pagods and thy pillar'd shades ^'^'^ - 
Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, 
Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ? ^^^ 

'Tis he of Gazna i^a — fierce in wrath 

He comes, and India's diadems 
Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path. — 

His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, 
Torn from the violated necks 

Of many a young and lov'd Sultana ; ^^"^ 

Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 

Priests in the very fane he slaughters. 
And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 

Of golden shrines the sacred waters ! 
Downward the Peri turns her gaze. 
And, through the war-field's bloody haze, 
Beholds a youthful warrior stand, 

Alone, beside his native river, — 
The red blade broken in his hand, 

And the last arrow in his quiver. 
" Live," said the Conqueror, " live to share 
The trophies and the crowns I bear ! " 
Silent that youthful warrior stood — 
Silent he pointed to the flood 
All crimson with his country's blood, 



PARAJIS- AND THE PER I. 1 15 

The relics of a spleni '-^g dart, 
Amid whose faijy.l'Vauer's heart. 
Nought but the 1 

Nought seen but (wi^ v /' nointed well; 
Fast from the moon, uns^ 
Some purple-wing'd S^Aere he lay, 

Upon a colunvrush of war was past, 
Swiftly descending on a ray 

Of morning light, she caught the last 
Last glorious drop his heart had shed. 
Before its free-born spirit fled ! 

" Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, 
" My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 
Though foul are the drops that oft distil 

On the field of warfare, blood like this, 

For Liberty shed, so holy vs,}'^^ 
It would not stain the purest rill 

That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss! 
Oh, if there be, on this earthly sphere, 
A boon, an oifering Heaven holds dear, 
'Tis the last libation Liberty draws 
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause ! " 

" Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave 

The gift into his radiant hand, 
*' Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 

Who die thus for their native Land — 
But see — alas ! — the crystal bar 
Of Eden moves not — holier far 
Than even this drop the boon must be, 
That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee ! " 



Ii6 LALLA ROOKB. 

Her first fond hope of Eden bli/hted, 

Now among Afric's lunar Mom.Uins/''^ 
Far to the South the Peri lighted ; 

And sleek'd her plumage at tJe fountains 
Of that Egyptian tide — whG;e birth 
Is hidden from the sons of earh. 
Deep in those solitary woods, 
Where oft the Genii of the Floods 
Dance round the cradle of their Nile, 
And hail the new-born Giant's smile. ^'^^ 
Thence over Egypt's palmy groves. 

Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings, ^^^ 
The exiPd Spirit sighing roves ; 
And now hangs listening to the doves 
In warm Rosetta's vale^'^ — now loves 

To watch the moonlight on the wings 
Of the white pelicans that break 
The azure calm of Mceris' Lake.^'^ 
'Twas a fair scene — a Land more bright 

Never did mortal eye behold ! 
Who could have thought, that saw this night, 

Those valleys and their fruits of gold. 
Basking in Heaven's serenest light ; — 
Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 

Languidly their leaf-crown'd heads. 
Like youthful maids, when sleep descending 

Warns them to their silken beds ; i'' — 
Those virgin lilies, all the night 

Bathing their beauties in the lake, 
That they may rise more fresh and bright. 

When their beloved Sun's awake ; — 
Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem 



PARADISE AND THE PERL 1 17 

The relics of a splendid dream ; 

Amid whose fairy loneliness 
Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, 
Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting 
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam) 
Some purple-wingM Sultana ^'^ sitting 

Upon a column, motionless 
And glittering like an Idol bird ! — 
Who could have thought, that there, even there, 
Amid those scenes so still and fair. 
The Demon of the Plague hath cast 
From his hot wing a deadlier blast. 
More mortal far than ever came 
From the red Desert's sands of flame ! 
So quick, that every living thing 
Of human shape, touched by his wing. 
Like plants where the Simoom hath past. 
At once falls black and withering ! 
The sun went down on many a brow, 

Which, full of bloom and freshness then, 
Is rankling in the pest-house now. 

And ne'er will feel that sun again. 
And, oh ! to see the unburied heaps 
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps — 
The very vultures turn away, 
And sicken at so foul a prey ! 
Only the fierce hyaena stalks^'* 
Throughout the city's desolate walks ^^^ 
At midnight, and his carnage plies : — 

Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets 
The glaring of those large blue eyes ^^^ 

Amid the darkness of the streets ! 



Ii8 LALLA ROOKH. 

** Poor race of men ! " said the pitying Spirit, 

" Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall — - 
Some flowVets of Eden ye still inherit, 

But the trail of the Serpent is over them all ! " 
She wept — the air grew pure and clear 

Around her, as the bright drops ran ; 
For there's a magic in each tear 

Such kindly Spirits weep for man ! 
Just then beneath some orange trees, 
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 
Were wantoning together, free. 
Like age at play with infancy — 
Beneath that fresh and springing bower, 

Close by the Lake, she heard the moan 
Of one who, at this silent hour, 

Had thither stolen to die alone. 
One who in life, where'er he mov'd, 

Drew after him the hearts of many ; 
Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov'd, 

Dies here unseen, unwept by any ! 
None to watch near him — none to slake 

The fire that in his bosom lies. 
With even a sprinkle from that lake, 

Which shines so cool before his eyes. 
No voice, well known through many a day. 

To speak the last, the parting word, 
Which, when all other sounds decay. 

Is still like distant music heard ; — 
That tender farewell on the shore 
Of this rude world, when all is o'er, 
Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
Puts off into the unknown Dark. 



1 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 1 19 

Deserted youth ! one thought alone 

Shed joy around his soul in death — 
That she, whom he for years had known, 
And lov'd, and might have call'd his own, 

Was safe from this foul midnight's breath, — 
Safe in her father's princely halls. 
Where the cool airs from fountain falls. 
Freshly perfum'd by many a brand 
Of the sweet wood from India's land, 
Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. 

But see — who yonder comes by stealth, ^^^ 

This melancholy bower to seek, 
Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 

With rosy gifts upon her cheek? 
'Tis she ! — far off, through moonlight dim, 

He knew his own betrothed bride. 
She, who would rather die with him. 

Than live to gain the world beside ! — 
Her arms are round her lover now. 

His livid cheek to hers she presses. 
And dips, to bind his burning brow. 

In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. 

Ah ! once, how little did he think 

An hour would come, when he should shrink 

With horror from that dear embrace, 

Those gentle arms, that were to him 
Holy as is the cradling place 

Of Eden's infant cherubim ! 
And now he yields — now turns away. 
Shuddering as if the venom lay 



I20 LALLA ROOKH. 

All in those proft'er'd lips alone — 
Those lips that, then so fearless grown, 
Never until that instant came 
Near his unask'd or without shame. 
" Oh ! let me only breathe the air, 

That blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, 
And, whether on its wings it bear 

Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me ! 
There — drink my tears, while yet they fall 

Would that my bosom's blood were balm, 
And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all. 

To give thy brow one minute's calm. 
Nay, turn not from me that dear face — 

Am I not thine — thy own lov'd bride — 
The one, the chosen one, whose place 

In life or death is by thy side? 
Think'st thou that she, whose only light, 

In this dim world, from thee hath shone. 
Could bear the long, the cheerless night. 

That must be hers when thou art gone ? 
That I can live, and let thee go, 
Who art my life itself ?— No, no — 
When the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
Out of its heart must perish too ! 
Then turn to me, my own love, turn. 
Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; 
Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
The last pure life that lingers there ! " 
She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
In charnel airs, or cavern damp, 
So quickly do his baleful sighs 
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 

One struggle — and his pain is past — - 

Her lover is no longer living ! 
One kiss the maiden gives, one last, 

Long kiss, which she expires in giving ! 

"■ Sleep," s^iicj the Peri, as softly she stole 
The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, 
As true as e'er warm'd a woman's breast ' — 
" Sleep on, in visions of qdor rest, 
In balmier airs th^n ever yet stirrM 
The enchanted pile of that lonely bird, 
Who sings at the last his own death-lay,i^3 
And in music and perfume dies away ! " 

Thus saying, from her lips she spread 

Unearthly breathings through the place. 
And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed 

Such lustre o'er each paly face, 
That like two lovely saints they seem'd, 

Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
From their dim graves, in odor sleeping ; 
While that benevolent Peri beam'd 
Like their good angel, calmly keeping 

Watch o'er them till their souls would waken. 

But morn is blushing in the sky ; 

Again the Peri soars above. 
Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh 

Of pure self-sacrificing love. 
High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate. 

The Elysian palm she soon shall win, 
For the bright Spirit at the gate 

Smil'd as she gave that offering in ; 



122 LALLA KOOKH. 

And she already hears the trees 

Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
Ringing in that ambrosial breeze 

That from the throne of Alla swells ; 
And she can see the starry bowls 

That lie around that lucid lake, 
Upon whose banks admitted Souls 

Their first sweet draught of glory take ! ^8* 

But, ah ! even Peris' hopes are vain : — 

Again the Fates forbade, again 

The immortal barrier clos'd : — " Not yet," 

The Angel said as, with regret. 

He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 

" True was the maiden, and her story, 

Written in light o'er Allans head. 

By seraph eyes shall long be read. 

But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 

Of Eden moves not — holier far 

Than even this sigh the boon must be 

That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee." 

Now, upon Syria's land of roses ^^^ 
Softly the light of Eve reposes. 
And, like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon ; 
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, 

And whitens with eternal sleet. 
While summer, in a vale of flowers, 

Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one, who look'd from upper air 
O'er all the enchanted regions there, 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 123 

How beauteous must have been the glow, 
The life, the sparkling, from below ! 
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks 
Of golden melons on their banks, 
More golden where the sunlight falls ; 
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls ^^^ 
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright 
As they were all alive with light ; 
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks 
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, 
With their rich restless wings, that gleam 
Variously in the crimson beam 
Of the warm West, — as if inlaid 
With brilliants from the mine, or made 
Of tearless rainbows,- such as span 
The unclouded skies of Peristan. 
And then the mingling sounds that come 
Of shepherd's ancient reed,^^^ with hum 
Of the wild bees of Palestine, ^^^ 

Banqueting through the flowYy vales ; 
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 

And woods, so full of nightingales. ^^^ 



But nought can charm the luckless Peri ; 
Her soul is sad — her wings are weary — 
Joyless she sees the Sun look down 
On that great Temple, once his own,!^'^ 
Whose lonely columns stand sublime. 

Flinging their shadows from on high, 
Like dials, which the wizard, Time, 

Had rais'd to count his ages by ! 



124 LALLA ROOKH, 

Yet haply there may lie conceard 
Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 

Some amulet of gems anneal'd 

In upper fires, some tablet seaPd 
With the great name of Solomon, 
Which, speird by her illumin'd eyes, 

May teach her where, beneath the moon, 

In earth or ocean, lies the boon, 

The charm, that can restore so soon 
An erring Spirit to the skies. 

Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither; 

Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, 

Nor have the golden bowers of Even 
In the rich West begun to wither ; — 
When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging 

Slowly she sees a child at play, 
Among the rosy wild flowers singing. 

As rosy and as wild as they ; 
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, 
The beautiful blue damsel-flies, ^^^ 
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems, 
Like winged flowers or flying gems : — 
And, near the boy, who tir'd with play 
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay. 
She saw a wearied man dismount 

From his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small imaret's rustic fount ^^^ 

Impatient fling him down to drink. 
Then swift his haggard brow he turned 

To the fair child, who fearless sat, 
Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd 

Upon a brow more fierce than that, — 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 125 

Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire, 
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire ; 
In which the Peri's eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ; 
The ruin'd maid — the shrine profan'd — 
Oaths broken — and the threshold stain'd 
With blood of guests ! — there written, all. 
Black as the damning drops that fall 
From the denouncing AngePs pen. 
Ere Mercy weeps them out again. 

Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
(As if the balmy evening time 
Softened his spirit) look'd and lay, 
Watching the rosy infant's play : — 
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance 

Met that unclouded joyous gaze, 
As torches that have burned all night 
Through some impure and godless rite. 

Encounter morning's glorious rays. 

But, hark ! the vesper call to prayer, 

As slow the orb of daylight sets, 
Is rising sweetly on the air, 

From Syria's thousand minarets ! 
The boy has started from the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his head. 
And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels,i93 with its forehead to the south, 
Lisping the eternal name of God 

From Purity's own cherub mouth, 



126 LALLA ROOKH. 

And looking, while his hands and eyes 

Are lifted to the glowing skies, 

Like a stray babe of Paradise, 

Just lighted on that flowery plain, 

And seeking for its home again. 

Oh ! 'twas a sight — that Heaven — that child — 

A scene, which might have well beguiPd 

Even haughty Eblis of a sigh 

For glories lost and peace gone by ! 

And how felt he, the wretched Man 

Reclining there — while memory ran 

O'er many a year of guilt and strife. 

Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, 

Nor found one sunny resting-place, 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace ! 

" There was a time," he said, in mild, 

Heart-humbled tones — " thou blessed child! 

When, young and haply pure as thou, 

I look'd and pray'd like thee ; but now — " 

He hung his head — each nobler aim. 

And hope, and feeling, which had slept 
From boyhood's hour, that instant came 

Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept! 
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! 

In whose benign, redeeming flow 
Is felt the first, the only sense 

Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 

"There's a drop," said the Peri, "that down from 

the moon 
Falls through the withering airs of June 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 127 

Upon Egypt's land,^^* of so healing a power, 
So balmy a virtue, that e'en in the hour 
The drop descends, contagion dies, 
And health re-animates earth and skies ! — 
Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin. 

The precious tears of repentance fall? 
Though foul thy fiery plagues within. 

One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all ! " 

And now — behold him kneeling there 
By the child's side, in humble prayer. 
While the same sunbeam shines upon 
The guilty and the guiltless one. 
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 
The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! 
'Twas when the golden orb had set, 
While on their knees they lingered yet, 
There fell a light more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star, 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek. 
To mortal eye this light might seem 
A northern flash or meteor beam — 
But well the enrapturd Peri knew 
'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear 
Her harbinger of glory near ! 

" Joy, joy forever ! my task is done — 
The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won ! 
Oh ! am I not happy? I am, I am — 
To thee, sweet Eden ! how dark and sad 



128 LALLA ROOKH. 

Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,i^5 

And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! 
Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die 
Passing away like a lover's sigh ; — 
My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,^^ 
Whose scent is the breath of Eternity ! 
Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone 

In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief; — 
Oh ! what are the brightest that e^er have blown, 
To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne, ^^^ 

Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf! 
Joy, joy forever ! — my task is done — 
The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won ! " 



" And this," said the Great Chamberlain, " is poetry! 
this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, in com- 
parison with the lofty and durable monuments of 
genius, is as the gold filigree-work of Zamara beside 
the eternal architecture of Egypt ! " After this 
gorgeous sentence, which, with a few more of the 
same kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and im- 
portant occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy o^ 
the short poem just recited. The lax and easy kind 
of metre in which it was written ought to be de- 
nounced, he said, as one of the leading causes of the 
alarming growth of poetry in our times. If some 
check were not given to this lawless facility, we should 
soon be overrun by a ra^e of bards as numerous and as 
shallow as the hundred and twenty thousand Streams 
of Basra. ^^^ They who succeeded in this style de- 
served chastisement for their very success ; — as 



LALLA ROOKH. 1 29 

warriors have been punished, even after gaining a 
victory, because they had taken the Hberty of gaining 
it in an irregular or unestabhshed manner. What, 
then, was to be said to those who failed ? to those 
who presumed, as in the present lamentable instance, 
to imitate the license and ease of the bolder sons of 
song, without any of that grace or vigor which gave 
a dignity even to negligence ; — who, like them, flung 
the jereed 199 carelessly, but not, like them, to the 
mark; — "and who," said he, raising his voice, to 
excite a proper degree of wakefulness in his hearers, 
*' contrive to appear heavy and constrained in the 
midst of all the latitude they allow themselves, like one 
of those young pagans that dance before the Princess, 
who is ingenious enough to move as if her limbs were 
fettered, in a pair of the lightest and loosest drawers 
of Masulipatam ! " 

It was but little suitable, he continued, to the grave 
march of criticism to follow this fantastical Peri, of 
whom they had just heard, through all her flights and 
adventures between earth and heaven ; but he could 
r.ot help adverting to the puerile conceitedness of the 
Three Gifts which she is supposed to carry to the 
skies, — a drop of blood, forsooth, a sigh, and a tear! 
How the first of these articles was delivered into the 
AngePs "radiant hand" he professed himself at a 
loss to discover ; and as to the safe carriage of the 
sigh and the tear, such Peii5 and such poets were 
beings by far too incomprehensible for him even to 
guess how they managed such matters. " But, in 
short," said he, " it is a waste of time and patience 



130 LALLA ROOKH. 

to dwell longer upon a thing so incurably frivolous, — 
puny even among its own puny race, and such as 
only the Banyan Hospital ^oo for Sick Insects should 
undertake." 

In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inexor- 
able critic ; in vain did she resort to her most eloquent 
common-places, — reminding him that poets were a 
timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness was not to 
be drawn forth, like that of the fragrant grass near 
the Ganges, by crushing and trampling upon them ; ^^^ 
— that severity often extinguished every chance of 
the perfection which it demanded ; and that, after all, 
perfection was like the Mountain of the Talisman, — 
no one had ever yet reached its summit. 2*^2 Neither 
these gentle axioms, nor the still gentler looks with 
which they were inculcated, could lower for one instant 
the elevation of Fadladeen's eyebrows, or charm 
him into anything like encouragement, or even tol- 
eration of her poet. Toleration, indeed, was not 
among the weaknesses of Fadladeen : — he carried 
the same spirit into matters of poetry and of religion, 
and, though little versed in the beauties or sublimities 
of either, was a perfect master of the art of persecu- 
tion in both. His zeal was the same, too, in either 
pursuit ; whether the game before him was pagans, or 
poetasters, — worshippers of cows, or writers of epics. 

They had now arrived at the splendid city of 
Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent 
and numberless, where Death appeared to share equal 
honors with Heaven, would have powerfully affected 



LALLA ROOKH. 13 1 

the heart and imagination of Lalla Rookh, if feel- 
ings more of this earth had not taken entire possession 
of her already. She was here met by messengers, 
despatched from Cashmere, who informed her that 
the King had arrived in the Valley, and was himself 
superintending the sumptuous preparations that were 
then making in the Saloons of the Shalimar for her 
reception. The chill she felt on receiving this intel- 
ligence, — which to a bride whose heart was free and 
light would have brought only images of affection and 
pleasure, — convinced her that her peace was gone 
forever, and that she was in love, irretrievably in love, 
with young Feramorz. The veil had fallen off in 
which this passion at first disguises itself, and to 
know that she loved was now as painful as to love 
without knowing it had been delicious. Feramorz, 
too, — what misery would be his, if the sweet hours 
of intercourse so imprudently allowed them should 
have stolen into his heart the same fatal fascination 
as into hers ; — if, notwithstanding her rank, and the 
modest homage he always paid to it, even he should 
have yielded to the influence of those long and happy 
interviews, where music, poetry, the delightful scenes 
of nature, — all had tended to bring their hearts close 
together, and to waken by every means that too 
ready passion, which often, like the young of the 
desert-bird, is warmed into life by the eyes alone ! -^^ 
She saw but one way to preserve herself from being 
culpable as well as unhappy, and this, however pain- 
ful, she was resolved to adopt. Feramorz must no 
more be admitted to her presence. To have strayed 
so far into the dangerous labyrinth was wrong, but to 



132 LALLA ROOKH. 

linger in it, while the clew was yet in her hand, would 
be criminal. Though the heart she had to offer to 
the King of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it 
should at least be pure ; and she must only endeavor 
to forget the short dream of happiness she had en- 
joyed, — like that Arabian shepherd, who, in wander- 
ing into the wilderness, caught a glimpse of the 
Gardens of Irem, and then lost them again for- 
ever ! 204 

The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore was 
celebrated in the most enthusiastic manner. The 
Rajas and Omras in her train, who had kept at a 
certain distance during the journey, and never en- 
camped nearer to the Princess than was strictly 
necessary for her safeguard, here rode in splendid 
cavalcade through the city, and distributed the most 
costly presents to the crowd. Engines were erected 
in all the squares, which cast forth showers of con- 
fectionery among the people ; while the artisans, in 
chariots '^^^ adorned with tinsel and flying streamers, 
exhibited the badges of their respective trades through 
the streets. Such brilliant displays of life and pa- 
geantry among the palaces, and domes, and gilded 
minarets of Lahore, made the city altogether, like a 
place of enchantment ; — particularly on the day when 
Lalla Rookh set out again upon her journey, when 
she was accompanied to the gate by all the fairest and 
richest of the nobility, and rode along between ranks 
of beautiful boys and girls, who kept waving over 
their heads plates of gold and silver flowers, ^o^ and 
then threw them around to be gathered by the 
populace. 



LALLA ROOKH. 133 

For many days after their departure from Lahore, 
a considerable degree of gloom hung over the whole 
party. Lalla Rookh, who had intended to make 
illness her excuse for not admitting the young minstrel, 
as usual, to the pavilion, soon found that to feign 
indisposition was unnecessary ; — Fadladeen felt 
the loss of the good road they had hitherto travelled, 
and was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed 
memory ! ) for not having continued his delectable 
alley of trees, 2^" at least as far as the mountains of 
Cashmere ; — while the Ladies, who had nothing now 
to do all day but to be fanned by peacocks' feathers 
and listen to Fadladeen, seemed heartily weary of 
the life they led, and, in spite of all the Great Cham- 
berlain's criticisms, were so tasteless as to wish for 
the poet again. One evening, as they were proceed- 
ing to their place of rest for the night, the Princess, 
who, for the freer enjoyment of the air, had mounted 
her favorite Arabian palfrey, in passing by a small 
grove, heard the notes of a lute from within its leaves, 
and a voice, which she but too well knew, singing the 
following words : — 

Tell me not of joys above. 
If that world can give no bliss. 

Truer, happier than the Love 

Which enslaves our souls in this. 

Tell me not of Houris' eyes ; — 
Far from me their dangerous glow. 

If those looks that light the skies 
Wound like some that burn below. 



134 LALLA ROOKH. 

Who, that feels what Love is here, 
All its falsehood — all its pain — 

Would, for even Elysium's sphere, 
Risk the fatal dream again? 

Who, that midst a desert's heat 

Sees the waters fade away, 
Would not rather die than meet 

Streams again as false as they? 

The tone of melancholy defiance in which these 
words were uttered, went to Lalla Rookh's heart; 
— and, as she reluctantly rode on, she could not 
help feeling it to be a sad but still sweet certainty, 
that Feramorz was to the full as enamoured and 
miserable as herself. 

The place where they encamped that evening was 
the first delightful spot they had come to since they 
left Lahore. On each side of them was a grove full 
of small Hindoo temples, and planted with the most 
graceful trees of the East ; where the tamarind, the 
cassia, and the silken plantains of Ceylon were 
mingled in rich contrast with the high fan-like foliage 
of the Palmyra, — that favorite tree of the luxurious 
bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with fire- 
flies. ^os In the middle of the lawn where the pavilion 
stood there was a tank surrounded by small mango- 
trees, on the clear cold waters of which floated 
multitudes of the beautiful red lotus ; -^s while at a 
distance stood the ruins of a strange and awful-looking 
tower, which seemed old enough to have been the 



LALLA ROOKH. 135 

temple of some religion no longer known, and which 
spoke the voice of desolation in the midst of all that 
bloom and loveliness. This singular ruin excited the 
wonder and conjectures of all. Lalla Rookh 
guessed in vain, and the all-pretending Fadladeen, 
who had never till this journey been beyond the 
precincts of Delhi, was proceeding most learnedly to 
show that he knew nothing whatever about the mat- 
ter, when one of the Ladies suggested that perhaps 
Feramorz could satisfy their curiosity. They were 
now approaching his native mountains, and this 
tower might perhaps be a relic of some of those dark 
superstitions which had prevailed in that country 
before the light of Islam dawned upon it. The 
Chamberlain, who usually preferred his own ignorance 
to the best knowledge that any one else could give 
him, was by no means pleased with this officious refer- 
ence ; and the Princess, too, was about to interpose a 
faint word of objection, but, before either of them 
could speak, a slave was despatched for Feramorz, 
who, in a very few minutes, made his appearance 
before them — looking so pale and unhappy in Lalla 
Rookh's eyes, that she repented already of her 
cruelty in having so long excluded him. 

That venerable tower, he told them, was the 
remains of an ancient Fire-temple, built by those 
Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, who, many 
hundred years since, had fled hither from their Arab 
conquerors, 210 preferring liberty and their altars in a 
foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or persecu- 
tion in their own. It was impossible, he added, not 



136 LALLA ROOKH. 

to feel interested in the many glorious but unsuccess- 
ful struggles which had been made by these original 
natives of Persia to cast off the yoke of their bigoted 
conquerors. Like their own Fire in the Burning 
Field at Bakou,-i^ when suppressed in one place, they 
had but broken out with fresh flame in another ; and, 
as a native of Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Valley 
which had in the same manner become the prey of 
strangers, ^^^ and seen her ancient shrines and native 
princes swept away before the march of her intolerant 
invaders, he felt a sympathy, he owned, with the 
sufferings of the persecuted Ghebers, which every 
monument like this before them but tended more 
powerfully to awaken. 

It was the first time that Feramorz had ever ven- 
tured upon so x^Mok). prose before Fadladeen, and it 
may easily be conceived what effect such prose as 
this must have produced upon that most orthodox and 
most pagan-hating personage. He sat for some min- 
utes aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, " Bigoted 
conquerors ! — sympathy with Fire-worshippers ! " ^^^ 
— while Feramorz, happy to take advantage of 
this almost speechless horror of the Chamberlain, 
proceeded to say that he knew a melancholy story, 
connected with the events of one of those struggles 
of the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab 
masters, which, if the evening was not too far ad- 
vanced, he should have much pleasure in being allowed 
to relate to the Princess. It was impossible for Lalla 
RoOKH to refuse ; — he had never before looked half 
. so animated ; and when he spoke of the Holy Valley, 



LALLA ROOKH. 137 

his eyes had sparkled, she thought, like the talismanic 
characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent 
was therefore most readily granted ; and while Fad- 
LADEEN sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason 
and abomination in every line, the poet thus began 
his story of the Fire-worshippers : — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 



'Tis moonlight over Oman's Sea ; 2" 

Her banks of pearl and balmy isles 
Bask in the night-beam beauteously, 

And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
'Tis moonlight in Harmozia's ^^^ walls. 
And through her Emir's porphyry halls, 
Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
Of trumpet and the clash of zel,^^*^ 
Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell ; — 
The peaceful sun, whom better suits 

The music of the bulbuPs nest, 
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes. 

To sing him to his golden rest. 
All hush'd — there's not a breeze in motion; 
The shore is silent as the ocean. 
If zephyrs come, so light they come, 

Nor leaf is stirr'd nor wave is driven ; — 
The wind-tower on the Emir's dome ^^^ 

Can hardly win a breath from heaven. 

Even he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 
Calm, while a nation round him weeps ; 
While curses load the air he breathes, 
And falchions from unnumber'd sheaths 

138 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 139 

Are starting to avenge the shame 

His race hath brought on Iran's ^^^ name. 

Hard, heartless Chief, unmov'd ahke 

'Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike ; — 

One of that saintly, murderous brood, 

To carnage and the Koran given, 
Who think through unbeliever's blood 

Lies their directest path to heaven ; — 
One, who will pause and kneel unshod 

In the warm blood his hand hath pour'd, 
To mutter o'er some text of God 

Engraven on his reeking sword ; 219 
Nay, who can coolly note the line, 
The letter of those words divine. 
To which his blade, with searching art, 
Had sunk into its victim's heart ! 

Just Alla ! what must be thy look. 

When such a wretch before thee stands 
Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, — 

Turning the leaves with blood-stain'd hands, 
And wresting from its page sublime 
His creed of lust, and hate, and crime ; 
Even as those bees of Trebizond, 

Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad 
With their pure smile the gardens round, 

Draw venom forth that drives men mad. 220 

Never did fierce Arabia send 

A satrap forth more direly great ; 
Never was Iran doom'd to bend 

Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 



I40 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her throne had fallen — her pride was crushed — 

Her sons were willing slaves, nor blush'd, 

In their own land, — no more their own, — 

To crouch beneath a strangers throne. 

Her towers, where Mithra once had burn'd, 

To Moslem shrines — oh shame ! — were turn'd, 

Where slaves, converted by the sword. 

Their mean, apostate worship pour'd. 

And curs'd the faith their sires ador'd. 

Yet has she hearts, 'mid all this ill. 

O'er all this wreck, high, buoyant still 

With hope and vengeance ; — hearts that yet — 

Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays 
They've treasurd from the sun that's set, — 

Beam all the light of long-lost days ! 
And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow 

To second all such hearts can dare ; 
As he shall know, well, dearly know, 

Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, 
Tranquil as if his spirit lay 
Becalm'd in Heaven's approving ray. 
Sleep on — for purer eyes than thine 
Those waves are hush'd, those planets shine ; 
Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov'd 

By the white moonbeam's dazzling power ; — 
None but the loving and the lov'd 

Should be awake at this sweet hour. 

And see — where, high above those rocks 
That o'er the deep their shadows fling. 

Yon turret stands ; — where ebon locks, 
As glossy as a heron's wing 
Upon the turban of a king,'^"^i 




" 'Tis she, that Emir's blooming 
cliiia." 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 141 

Hang from the lattice, long and wild — 
'Tis she, that Emir's blooming child, 
All truth and tenderness and grace, 
Though born of such ungentle race ; — 
An image of Youth's radiant Fountain 
Springing in a desolate mountain ! '^'^^ 



Oh what a pure and sacred thing 

Is beauty, curtain'd from the sight 
Of the gross world, illumining 

One only mansion with her light ! 
Unseen by man's disturbing eye, — 

The flower that blooms beneath the sea, 
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie 

Hid in more chaste obscurity. 
So, HiNDA, have thy face and mind, 
Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin'd. 
And oh, what transport for a lover 

To lift the veil that shades them o'er ! — 
Like those who, all at once, discover 

In the lone deep some fairy shore, 

Where mortal never trod before, 
And sleep and wake in scented airs 
No lip had ever breath'd but theirs. 

Beautiful are the maids that glide. 

On summer-eves, through Yemen's 223 dales, 
And bright the glancing looks they hide 

Behind their litters' roseate veils ; — 
And brides, as delicate and fair 
As the white jasmine flowers they wear, 



142 LALLA ROOKH. 

Hath Yemen in her blissful clime, 

Who, luird in cool kiosk or bower,224 
Before their mirrors count the time,^-^ 

And grow still lovelier every hour. 
But never yet hath bride or maid 

In Araby's gay Haram smiPd, 
Whose boasted brightness would not fade 

Before Al Hassan's blooming child. 

Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant's dream, yet not the less 
Rich in all woman's loveliness ; — 
With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
Dark Vice would turn abashed away. 
Blinded like serpents, when they gaze 
Upon the emerald's virgin blaze ; -26 — 
Yet fiird with all youth's sweet desires, 
Mingling the meek and vestal fires 
Of other worlds with all the bliss, 
The fond, weak tenderness of this : 
A soul, too, more than half divine, 

Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, 
Religion's soften'd glories shine, 

Like light through summer foliage stealing, 
Shedding a glow of such mild hue. 
So warm, and yet so shadowy too. 
As makes the very darkness there 
More beautiful than light elsewhere. 

Such is the maid who, at this hour, 

Hath risen from her restless sleep. 
And sits alone in that high bower. 

Watching the still and shining deep. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 143 

Ah ! 'twas not thus, — with tearful eyes 

And beating heart, — she used to gaze 
On the magnificent earth and skies, 

In her own land, in happier days. 
Why looks she now so anxious down 
Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 

Blackens the mirror of the deep ? 
Whom waits she all this lonely night? 

Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, 
For man to scale that turret's height ! — 

So deem'd at least her thoughtful sire, 

When high, to catch the cool night-air, 
After the day-beam's withering fire, "^'■^^ 

He built her bower of freshness there, 
And had it deck'd with costliest skill. 

And fondly thought it safe as fair : — 
Think, reverend dreamer ! think so still, 

Nor wake to learn what Love can dare ; — 
Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
No' charm in trophies won with ease ; 
Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
Are pluck'd on Danger's precipice ! 
Bolder than they who dare not dive 

For pearls, but when the sea's at rest. 
Love, in the tempest most alive. 

Hath ever held that pearl the best 
He finds beneath the stormiest water. 
Yes — Araby's unrivall'd daughter. 
Though high that tower, that rock-way rude. 

There's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
Would climb the untrodden solitude 

Of Ararat's tremendous peak,228 



144 LALLA ROOKH. 

And think its steeps, though dark and dread, 

Heaven's pathways, if to thee they led ! 

Even now thou seest the flashing spray, 

That hghts his oar's impatient way ; — 

Even now thou hear'st the sudden shock 

Of his swift bark against the rock, 

And stretchest down thy arms of snow, 

As if to lift him from below ! 

Like her, to whom at dead of night, 

The bridegroom, with his locks of light,229 

Came, in the flush of love and pride, 

And scal'd the terrace of his bride ; — 

When, as she saw him rashly spring. 

And midway up in danger cling. 

She flung him down her long black hair, 

Exclaiming, breathless, "There, love, there!" 

And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 

The hero Zal in that fond hour, 
Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold, 

Now climbs the rocks to Hinda's bower. 
See — light as up their granite steeps 

The rock-goats of Arabia clamber,28o 
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, 

And now is in the maiden's chamber. 

She loves — but knows not whom she loves, 
Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 

Like one who meets, in Indian groves, 
Some beauteous bird without a name, 

Brought by the last ambrosial breeze. 

From isles in the undiscover'd seas, 

To show his plumage for a day 

To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 145 

Will he thus fly — her nameless lover? 

Alla forbid ! 'twas by a moon 
As fair as this, while singing over 

Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,^^! 
Alone, at this same witching hour, 

She first beheld his radiant eyes 
Gleam through the lattice of the bower, 

Where nightly now they mix their sighs ; 
And thought some spirit of the air 
(For what could waft a mortal there ? ) 
Was pausing on his moonlit way 
To listen to her lonely lay ! 
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind : 

And though, when terror's swoon had past, 
She saw a youth, of mortal kind. 

Before her in obeisance cast, 
Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
Strange, awful words, — and gleams have broken 
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, — 

Oh ! she hath fear'd her soul was given 
To some unhallow'd child of air. 

Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, 
Like those angelic youths of old. 
Who burn'd for maids of mortal mould, 
Bewilder'd left the glorious skies. 
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes. 
Fond girl ! nor fiend nor angel he 
Who woos thy young simplicity ; 
But one of earth's impassion'd sons, 

As warm in love, as fierce in ire. 
As the best heart whose current runs 

Full of the Day-God's living fire. 



146 LALLA ROOKH. 

But quench'd to-night that ardor seems, 

And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow ; 
Never before, but in her dreams, 

Had she beheld him pale as now : 
And those were dreams of troubled sleep, 
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep ; 
Visions, that will not be forgot. 

But sadden every waking scene, 
Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 

All withered where they once have been. 

" How sweetly," said the trembling maid. 

Of her own gentle voice afraid, 

So long had they in silence stood, 

Looking upon that tranquil flood — 

" How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 

To-night upon yon leafy isle ! 

Oft, in my fancy's wanderings, 

I've wish'd that little isle had wings, 

And we, within its fairy bowers. 

Were wafted off to seas unknown 
Where not a pulse should beat but ours, 

And we might live, love, die alone! 
Far from the cruel and the cold, — 

Where the bright eyes of angels only 
Should come around us, to behold 

A paradise so pure and lonely. 
Would this be world enough for thee?"— 
Playful she turn'd, that he might see 

The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
But when she mark'd how mournfully 

His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 147 

And, bursting into heartfelt tears, 

" Yes, yes,'' she cried, " my hourly fears, 

My dreams have boded all too right — 

We part — forever part — to-night ! 

I knew, I knew it could not last — 

'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past ! 

Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 

I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
I never lov'd a tree or flower, 

But 'twas the first to fade away. 
I never nurs'd a dear gazelle. 

To glad me with its soft black eye, 
But when it came to know me well, 

And love me, it was sure to die! 
Now too — the joy most like divine 

Of all I ever dreamt or knew. 
To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 

Oh misery ! must I loose that too ? 
Yet go — on peril's brink we meet ; — 

Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea — 
No, never come again — though sweet. 

Though heaven, it may be death to thee. 
Farewell — and blessings on thy way. 

Where'er thou goest, beloved stranger ! ■ 
Better to sit and watch that ray. 
And think thee safe, though far away. 

Than have thee near me, and in danger ! " 

" Danger! — oh, tempt me not to boast — " 
The youth exclaim'd — " thou little know'st 
What he can brave, who, born and nurst 
In Danger's paths, has dar'd her worst ; 



148 LALLA ROOKH. 

Upon whose ear the signal word 

Of strife and death is hourly breaking ; 

Who sleeps with head upon the sword 
His fever'd hand must grasp in waking. 

Danger ! — " 

" Say on — thou fear'st not then, 

And we may meet — oft meet again? " 

" Oh! look not so — beneath the skies 

I now fear nothing but those eyes. 

If aught on earth could charm or force 

My spirit from its destined course, — 

If aught could make this soul forget 

The bond to which its seal is set, 

'Twould be those eyes ; — they, only they, 

Could melt that sacred seal away ! 

But no — 'tis fixM — fny awful doom 

Is fix'd — on this side of the tomb 

We meet no more ; — why, why did Heaven 

Mingle two souls that earth has riven. 

Has rent asunder wide as ours? 

O Arab maid, as soon the Powers 

Of Light and Darkness may combine, 

As I be link'd with thee or thine ! 

Thy Father " 

" Holy Alla save 

His gray head from that lightning glance ! 
Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave ; 

Nor lives there under heaven's expanse 
One who would prize, would worship thee 
And thy bold spirit, more than he. 
Oft when, in childhood, I have play'd 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 149 

With the bright falchion by his side, 
IVe heard him swear his lisping maid 

In time should be a warrior's bride. 
And still, whene'er at Haram hours 
I take him cool sherbets and flowers. 
He tells me, when in playful mood, 

A hero shall my bridegroom be, 
Since maids are best in battle woo'd, 

And won with shouts of victory ! 
Nay, turn not from me — thou alone 
Art form'd to make both hearts thy own. 
Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know'st 

The unholy strife these Persians wage : 
Good Heaven, that frown ! — even now thou glow'st 

With more than mortal warrior's rage, 
Haste to the camp by morning's light. 
And when that sword is rais'd in fight. 
Oh still remember. Love and I 
Beneath its shadow trembling lie ! 
One victory o'er those Slaves of Fire, 
Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 

Abhors " 

" Hold, hold — thy words are death — " 

The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
His mantle back, and show'd beneath 

The Gheber belt that round him clung ^32 — 
*' Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
All that thy sire abhors in me ! 
Yes — /am of that impious race, 

Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, 
Hail their Creator's dwelling-place 

Among the living lights of heaven ; 233 



150 ^ LALLA ROOKH. 

Yes — / am of that outcast few, 
To Iran and to vengeance true, 
Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
To desolate our shrines of flame, 
And swear, before God's burning eye, 
To break our country's chains, or die ! 
Thy bigot sire, — nay, tremble not, — 

He, who gave birth to those dear eyes. 
With me is sacred as the spot 

From which our fires of worship rise ! 
But know — 'twas he I sought that night. 

When, from my watch-boat on the sea, 
I caught this turret's glimmering light, 

And up the rude rocks desperately 
Rush'd to my prey — thou know'st the rest — 
I climb'd the gory vulture's nest, 
And found a trembling dove within ; — 
Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 
If Love hath made one thought his own. 
That Vengeance claims first — last — alone! 
Oh ! had we never, never met. 
Or could this heart e'en now forget 
How link'd, how bless'd we might have been, 
Had fate not frown'd so dark between ! 
Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, 
In neighboring valleys had we dwelt, 
Through the same fields in childhood play'd, 

At the same kindling altar knelt, — 
Then, then, while all those nameless ties, 
In which the charm of Country lies. 
Had round our hearts been hourly spun, 
Till Iran's cause and thine were one ; 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 15 1 

While in thy lute's awakening sigh 
I heard the voice of days gone by. 
And saw, in every smile of thine. 
Returning hours of glory shine ; — 
While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land 

Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through thee, — 
God! who could then this sword withstand? 

Its very flash were victory ! 
But now — estranged, divorced forever, 
Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ; 
Our only ties what love has wove, — 

In faith, friends, country, sunder'd wide ; 
And then, then only, true to love, 

When false to all that 's dear beside ! 
Thy father, Iran's deadliest foe — 
Thyself perhaps, even now — but no — 
Hate never look'd so lovely yet ! 

No — sacred to thy soul will be 
The land of him who could forget 

All but that bleeding land for thee. 
When other eyes shall see, unmov'd. 

Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, 
Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd. 

And for his sake thou'lt weep for all ! 

But look " 

With sudden start he turn'd 

And pointed to the distant wave. 
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd 

Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave ; 
And fiery darts, at intervals, ^s* 

Flew up all sparkling from the main, 
As if each star that nightly falls 

Were shooting back to heaven again. 



152 LALLA ROOKH. 

' ' My signal lights ! — I must away — 

Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay. 

Farewell — sweet life ! thou cling'st in vain — • 

Now, Vengeance, I am thine again ! " 

Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped. 

Nor look'd — but from the lattice dropp'd 

Down 'mid the pointed crags beneath, 

As if he fled from love to death. 

While pale and mute young Hinda stood ; 

Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood 

A momentary plunge below 

Startled her from her trance of woe ; — 

Shrieking she to the lattice flew, 

" I come — I come — if in that tide 
Thou sleep'st to-night, I '11 sleep there too, 

In death's cold wedlock, by thy side. 
Oh ! I would ask no happier bed 

Than the chill wave my love lies under : — 
Sweeter to rest together dead. 

Far sweeter, than to live asunder ! " 
But no — their hour is not yet come — 

Again she sees his pinnace fly, 
Wafting him fleetly to his home, 

Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie ; 
And calm and smooth it seem'd to win 

Its moonlit way before the wind. 
As if it bore all peace within, 

Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 

The Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, 
could have wished that Feramorz had chosen a less 
melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 153 

tears are a luxury. Her ladies, however, were by no 
means sorry that love was once more the Poet's 
theme ; for, whenever he spoke of love, they said, 
his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves 
of that enchanted tree which grows over the tomb of 
the musician, Tan-Sein.235 

Their road all the morning had lain through a very 
dreary country; — through valleys, covered with a 
low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the 
awful signal of the bamboo staff, ^36 with the white 
flag at its top, reminded the traveller that, in that 
very spot, the tiger had made some human creatuie 
his victim. It was, therefore, with much pleasure 
that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, 
and encamped under one of those holy trees whose 
smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine 
them for natural temples of religion. Beneath this 
spacious shade, some pious hands had erected a row 
of pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porce- 
lain, ^87 which now supplied the use of mirrors to 
the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in 
descending from the palankeens. Here, while, as 
usual, the Princess sat listening anxiously, with 
Fadladeen in one of his loftiest moods of criticism 
by her side, the young Poet, leaning against a branch 
of the tree, thus continued his story : — 



The morn hath risen clear and calm, 
And o'er the Green Sea ^38 palely shines, 

Revealing Bahrein's ^^^ groves of palm, 
And lighting Kishma's ^39 amber vines. 



154 LALLA ROOKH. 

Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
While breezes from the Indian sea 
Blow round Selama's ^^o sainted cape, 

And curl the shining flood beneath, — 
Whose waves are rich with many a grape. 

And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath. 
Which pious seamen, as they pass'd. 
Had tow'rd that holy headland cast — 
Oblations to the Genii there 
For gentle skies and breezes fair ! 
The nightingale now bends her flight ^^i 
From the high trees, where all the night 

She sung so sweet, with none to listen ; 
And hides her from the morning star 

Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
In the clear dawn, — bespangled o'er. 

With dew, whose night drops would not stain 
The best and brightest scimitar 242 
That ever youthful Sultan wore 

On the first morning of his reign. 

And see — the Sun himself! — on wings 
Of glory up the East he springs. 
Angel of Light ! who from the time 
Those heavens began their march sublime. 
Hath first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire ! 

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, 
When Iran, like a sun-flower, turned 
To meet that eye where'er it burn'd ? — 

When, from the banks of Bendemeer 
To the nut-groves of Samarcand, 
Thy temples flam'd o'er all the land? 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 155 

Where are they? ask the shades of them 

Who, on Cadessia's 2*3 bloody plains, 
Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
From Iran's broken diadem, 

And bind her ancient faith in chains : — 
Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, 
Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates, '^^'^ 

Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, 
Far from his beauteous land of dates, 

Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains : 
Yet happier so than if he trod 
His own belov'd, but blighted, sod, 
Beneath a despot stranger's nod ! — 
Oh, he would rather houseless roam 

Where Freedom and his God may lead. 
Than be the sleekest slave at home 

That crouches to the conqueror's creed ! 
Is Iran's pride then gone forever, 

Quench'd with the flame in Mithra's caves? — 
No — she has sons, that never — never — 

Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves. 

While heaven has light or earth has graves ; — 
Spirits of fire, that brood not long. 
But flash resentment back for wrong ; 
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
Of vengeance ripen into deeds. 
Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, 
They burst, like Zeilan's giant palm,^^^ 
Whose buds fly open with a sound 
That shakes the pigmy forests round ! 



156 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yes, Emir t he, who scaPd that tower. 

And, had he reached thy slumbering breast, 
Had taught thee, in a Gheber's power 

How safe e'en tyrant heads may rest — 
Is one of many, brave as he, 
Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; 
Who, though they know the strife is vain. 
Who, though they know the riven chain 
Snaps but to enter in the heart 
Of him who rends its links apart. 
Yet dare the issue, — blest to be 
E'en for one bleeding moment free, 
And die in pangs of liberty ! 
Thou know'st them well — 'tis some moons since 

Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags, 
Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, 

Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags ; 
Yet here, e'en here, a sacred band — 
Ay, in the portal of that land 
Thou, Arab, darst to call thy own — 
Their spears across thy path have thrown ; 
Here — ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er — 
Rebellion brav'd thee from the shore. 

Rebellion ! foul, dishonoring word. 

Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd 
The holiest cause that tongue or sword 

Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. 
How many a spirit, born to bless. 

Hath sunk beneath that withering name, 
Whom but a day's, an hour's success 

Had wafted to eternal fame ! 



THE FTRE'lVORSHIPPERS. 157 

As exhalations, when they burst 
From the warm earth, if chilPd at first, 
If checked in soaring from the plain, 
Darken to fogs and sink again ; — 
But, if they once triumphant spread 
Their wings above the mountain-head, 
Become enthroned in upper air. 



And who is he, that wields the might 

Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, 
Before whose sabre's dazzling light -^^ 

The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink? 
Who comes, embowered in the spears 
Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers? — 
Those mountaineers that truest, last. 

Cling to their country's ancient rites. 
As if that God, whose eyelids cast 

Their closing gleam on Iran's heights. 
Among her snowy mountains threw 
The last light of his worship too ! 

'Tis Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 
Chills like the muttering of a charm ! — 

Shout but that awful name around, 
And palsy shakes the manliest arm. 

'Tis Hafed, most accurs'd and dire 

(So rank'd by Moslem hate and ire) 

Of al} the rebel Sons of Fire ; 

Of whose malign, tremendous power 

The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, 



158 LALLA ROOKH. 

Such tales of fearful wonder tell, 
That each affrighted sentinel 
Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes. 
Lest Hafed in the midst should rise ! 
A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 
A mingled race of flame and earth. 
Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,^*' 

Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 
A feather from the mystic wings 

Of the Simoorgh resistless wore ; 
And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
Who groaned to see their shrines expire. 
With charms that, all in vain withstood. 
Would drown the Koran's light in blood ! 

Such were the tales, that won belief. 

And such the coloring Fancy gave 
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, — 

One who, no more than mortal brave. 
Fought for the land his soul ador'd, 

For happy homes and altars free, — 
His only talisman, the sword, 

His only spell-word. Liberty! 
One of that ancient hero line, 
Along whose glorious current shine 
Names, that have sanctified their blood ; 
As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
Is rendered holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its banks. ^^^ 
'Twas not for him to crouch the knee 
Tamely to Moslem tyranny ; 
'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast 
In the bright mould of ages past. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 159 

Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
With all the glories of the dead, 
Though framed for Iran's happiest years, 
Was born among her chains and tears ! — 
'Tvvas not for him to swell the crowd 
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd 
Before the Moslem, as he pass'd. 
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast — 
No, — far he fled — indignant fled 

The pageant of his country's shame ; 
While every tear her children shed 

Fell on his soul like drops of flame ; 
And, as a lover hails the dawn 

Of a first smile, so welcom'd he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 

For vengeance and for liberty ! 

But vain was valor — vain the flower 
Of Kerman, in that deathful hour. 
Against Al Hassan's whelming power. — 
In vain they met him, helm to helm, 
Upon the threshold of that realm 
He came in bigot pomp to sway. 
And with their corpses block'd his way — 
In vain — for every lance they rais'd. 
Thousands around the conqueror blaz'd ; 
For every arm that lin'd their shore. 
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er, — 
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd. 
Before whose swarm as fast they bow'd 
As dates beneath the locust cloud. 



i6o LALLA ROOKH. 

There stood — but one short league away 
From old Harmozia's sultry bay — 
A rocky mountain, o'er the Sea 
Of Oman beetling awfully : ^^^ 
A last and solitary link 

Of those stupendous chains that reach 
From the broad Caspian's reedy brink 

Down winding to the Green Sea beach. 
Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
Like naked giants in the flood, 

As if to guard the Gulf across ; 
While, on its peak, that brav'd the sky, 
A ruin'd Temple tower'd, so high 

That oft the sleeping albatross '^^^ 
Struck the wild ruins with her wing, 
And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering 
Started — to find man's dwelling there 
In her own silent fields of air ! 
Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
Dark welcome to each stormy wave 
That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in; — 
And such the strange, mysterious din 
At times throughout those caverns roll'd, 
And such the fearful wonders told 
Of restless sprites imprison'd there, 
That bold were Moslem, who would dare, 
At twilight hour, to steer his skiff 
Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff. ^^^ 

On the land side, those towers sublime, 
That seem'd above the grasp of Time, 
Were sever'd from the haunts of men 
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. i6i 

So fathomless, so full of gloom, 

No eye could pierce the void between : 
It seem'd a place where Gholes might come 
With their foul banquets from the tomb, 

And in its caverns feed unseen. 
Like distant thunder, from below, 

The sound of many torrents came, 
Too deep for eye or ear to know 
If ^twere the sea's imprison"'d flow. 

Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
For, each ravine, each rocky spire 
Of that vast mountain stood on fire ; ^^^ 
And, though forever past the days 
When God was worshipped in the blaze 
That from its lofty altar shone, — 
Though fled the priests, the votaries gone. 
Still did the mighty flame burn on,^^^ 
Through chance and change, through good and ill. 
Like its own God's eternal will. 
Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable ! 

Thither the vanquished Hafed led 

His little army's last remains ; — 
" Welcome, terrific glen ! " he said, 
" Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread, 

Is Heaven to him who flies from chains ! " 
O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known 
To him and to his Chiefs alone. 
They cross'd the chasm and gain'd the towers, — 
" This home," he cried, " at least is ours ; — 
Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns 

Of Moslem triumph o'er our head ; 



1 62 . LALLA ROOKH. 

Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 

To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
Stretched on this rock vv^hile vultures' beaks 
Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, 
Here — happy that no tyrant's eye 
Gloats on our torments — we may die ! " — 

'Twas night when to those towers they came, 

And gloomily the fitful flame, 

That from the ruin'd altar broke, 

Glar'd on his features, as he spoke : — 

" 'Tis o'er — what men could do, we've done 

If Iran will look tamely on. 

And see her priests, her warriors driven 

Before a sensual bigot's nod, 
A wretch, who shrines his lusts in heaven, 

And makes a pander of his God ; 
If her proud sons, her high-born souls, 

Men, in whose veins — oh last disgrace ! 
The blood of Zal and Rustam '^^^ rolls, — 

If they will court this upstart race, 
And turn from Mithra's ancient ray, 
To kneel at shrines of yesterday ; 
If they will crouch to Iran's foes. 

Why, let them — till the land's despair 
Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows 

Too vile for e'en the vile to bear ! 
Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
Back on his heart in drops of gall. 
But here, at least, our arms unchain'd. 
And souls that thraldom never stain'd ; — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 163 

This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
Or satrap ever yet profaned ; 

And though but few — though fast the wave 
Of life is ebbing from our veins, 
Enough for vengeance still remains. 
As panthers, after set of sun, 
Rush from the roots of Lebanon 
Across the dark sea robber's way,2S5 
We '11 bound upon our startled prey ; 
And when some hearts that proudest swell 
Have felt our falchion's last farewell ; 
When Hope's expiring throb is o'er, 
And e'en despair can prompt no more, 
This spot shall be the sacred grave 
Of the last few who, vainly brave. 
Die for the land they cannot save !" 

His Chiefs stood round — each shining blade 

Upon the broken altar laid — 

And though so wild and desolate 

Those courts, where once the Mighty sate ; 

No longer on those mouldering towers 

Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, 

With which of old the Magi fed 

The wandering Spirits of their Dead ; ^^^ 

Though neither priest nor rites were there, 

Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate ; ^^^ 
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air. 

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet ; ^58 
Yet the same God that heard their sires 
Heard thon, while on that altar's fires 
They swore ^^^ the latest, holiest deed 
Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, 



1 64 LALLA ROOKH. 

Should be, in Iran's injured name, 
To die upon that Mount of Flame — 
The last of all her patriot line, 
Before her last untrampled Shrine ! 

Brave, suffering souls ! they little knew 
How many a tear their injuries drew 
From one weak maid, one gentle foe. 
Whom love first touched with others'' woe — 
Whose life, as free from thought as sin, 
Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 
His talisman, and woke the tide. 
And spread its trembling circles wide. 
Once, Emir ! thy unheeding child, 
'Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd — ■ 
Tranquil as on some battle plain 

The Persian lily shines and towers, 2«o 
Before the combat's reddening stain 

Hath falPn upon her golden flowers. 
Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd, 
While Heaven but spar'd the sire she lov'd, 
Once at thy evening tales of blood 
Unlistening and aloof she stood — 
And oft, when thou hast pac'd along 

Thy Haram halls with furious heat. 
Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song, 

That came across thee, calm and sweet, 
Like lutes of angels, touched so near 
Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear ! 

Far other feelings Love hath brought — 
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 165 

She now has but the one dear thought, 

And thinks that o'er, ahuost to madness ! 
Oft does her sinking heart recall 
His words — " For iny sake weep for all ; " 
And bitterly, as day on day 

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, 
She weeps a lover snatch'd away 

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 
There's not a sabre meets her eye, 

But with his life-blood seems to swim ; 
There's not an arrow wings the sky, 

But fancy turns its point to him. 
No more she brings with footstep light 

Al Hassan's falchion for the fight ; 
And — had he look'd with clearer sight. 
Had not the mists, that ever rise 
From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes — 
He would have mark'd her shuddering frame, 
When from the field of blood he came, 
The faltering speech — the look estrang'd — 
Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd — 
He would have mark'd all this, and known 
Such change is wrought by Love alone ! 

Ah ! not the Love that should have bless'd 
So young, so innocent a breast ; 
Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, 
That pledg'd on earth and seaPd above, 
Grows in the world's approving eyes. 

In friendship's smile and home's caress, 
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 

Into one knot of happiness ! 



1 66 LALLA ROOKH. 

No, HiNDA, no, — thy fatal flame 

Is nursed in silence, sorrow, shame ; — 

A passion, without hope or pleasure. 
In thy souPs darkness buried deep. 

It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure, - 
Some idol, without shrine or name. 
O'er which its pale-eyed votaries keep 
Unholy watch, while others sleep. 

Seven nights have darkened Oman's sea. 

Since last, beneath the moonlight ray. 
She saw his light oar rapidly 

Hurry her Gheber's bark away, — 
And still she goes, at midnight hour, 
To weep alone in that high bower. 
And watch, and look along the deep 
For him whose smiles first made her weep ; • 
But watching, weeping, all was vain. 
She never saw his bark again. 
The owlet's solitary cry. 
The night-hawk flitting darkly by. 

And oft the hateful carrion bird. 
Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing. 
Which reek'd with that day's banqueting — 

Was all she saw, was all she heard. 

'Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan's brow 
Is brighten'd with unusual joy — 

What mighty mischief glads him now. 
Who never smiles but to destroy? 

The sparkle upon Herkend's Sea, 

When toss'd at midnight furiously, ^^i 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 167 

Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, 

More surely than that smiling eye ! 

" Up, daughter, up — the Kerna's^^s breath 

Has blown a blast would waken death, 

And yet thou sleep'st — up, child, and see 

This blessed day for Heaven and me, 

A day more rich in Pagan blood 

Than ever flash'd o'er Oman's flood. 

Before another dawn shall shine, 

His head — heart — limbs — will all be mine; 

This very night his blood shall steep 

These hands all over ere I sleep ! " — 

" His blood ! " she faintly scream'd — her mind 

Still singling one from all mankind — 

" Yes — spite of his ravines and towers, 

Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 

Thanks to all-conquering treachery. 

Without whose aid the links accurst. 
That bind these impious slaves, would be 

Too strong for Alla's self to burst ! 
That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
My path with piles of Moslem dead. 
Whose baffling spells had almost driven 
Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, 
This night, with all his band, shall know 
How deep an Arab's steel can go, 
When God and Vengeance speed the blow. 
And — Prophet ! by that holy wreath 
Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of death,263 
I swear, for every sob that parts 
In anguish from these heathen hearts, 
A gem from Persia's plunder'd mines 



1 68 LALLA ROOKH. 

Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. 
But, ha ! — she sinks — that look so wild — 
Those livid lips — my child, my child, 
This life of blood befits not thee. 
And thou must back to Araby. 

Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex 
In scenes that man himself might dread, 
Had I not hop'd our every tread 

Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 
Curst race, they offer swords instead ! 
But, cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow. 
To-day shall waft thee from the shore ; 
And, ere a drop of this night's gore 
Have time to chill in yonder towers, 
Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers ! " 

His bloody boast was all too true ; 
There lurk'd one wretch among the few 
Whom Hafed's eagle eye could count 
Around him on that fiery mount, — 
One miscreant who for gold betray'd 
The pathway through the valley's shade 
To those high towers where Freedom stood 
In her last hold of flame and blood. 
Left on the field last dreadful night. 
When, sallying from their Sacred height. 
The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight. 
He lay — but died not with the brave ; 
That sun, which should have gilt his grave. 
Saw him a traitor and a slave ; — 
And, while the few, who thence returned 
To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 169 

For him among the matchless dead 

They left behind on glory's bed, 

He liv'd, and, in the face of morn, 

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn. 

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave. 

Whose treason, like a deadly blight. 
Comes o'er the councils of the brave, 

And blasts them in their hour of mi^ht ! 

o 

May Life's unblessed cup for him 

Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, — 

With hopes, that but allure to fly. 

With joys, that vanish while he sips. 
Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, 

But turn to ashes on the lips ! 2^4 
His country's curse, his children's shame, 
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame. 
May he, at last, with lips of flame 
On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — 
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh,'^^^ 
Are fading off", untouch'd, untasted, 
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! 
And, when from earth his spirit flies, 

Just Prophet, let the damn'd one dwell 
Full in the sight of Paradise, 

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell ! 



Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been visited by 
a dream which, in spite of the impending fate of 
poor Hafed, made her heart more than usually 
cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all 
the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid- 



lyo LALLA ROOKH. 

musk had just passed over. 266 She fancied that she 
was saiHng on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea- 
gypsies, who live forever on the water, ^67 enjoy a 
perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, 
when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. 
It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian 
islanders send adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, 
loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, 
as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of 
the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to be 
empty, but, on coming nearer — 

She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream 
to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the door 
of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every- 
thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the 
story was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of 
aloes was set to burn in the cassolets ; the violet 
sherbets ^68 were hastily handed round, and after a 
short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of 
Nava,"^^ which is always used to express the lamenta- 
tions of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued : — 



The day is lowering — stilly black 
Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, 
Dispersed and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
Hangs like a shatter'd canopy. 
There's not a cloud in that blue plain 

But tells of storm to come or past ; — 
Here, flying loosely as the mane 

Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 17 1 

There rolPd in masses dark and swelling. 
As proud to be the thunder's dwelling ! 
While some already burst and riven, 
Seem melting down the verge of heaven ; 
As though the infant storm had rent 

The mighty womb that gave him birth, 
And, having swept the firmament, 

Was now in fierce career for earth. 
On earth 'twas yet all calm around, 
A pulseless silence, dread, profound, 
More awful than the tempest's sound. 
The diver steer'd for Ormus' bowers, 
And moor'd his skiff till calmer hours ; 
The sea-birds, with portentous screech, 
Flew fast to land ; — upon the beach 
The pilot oft had paus'd, with glance 
Turn'd upward to that wild expanse ; — 
And all was boding, drear, and dark 
As her own soul, when Hinda's bark 
Went slowly from the Persian shore. — 
No music tim'd her parting oar,-"*^ 
Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
Linger'd, to wave the unseen hand. 
Or speak the farewell, heard no more ; — 
But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
The vessel takes its mournful way, 
Like some ill-destin'd bark that steers 
In silence through the Gate of Tears. ^^^ 
And where was stern Al Hassan then? 
Could not that saintly scourge of men 
From bloodshed and devotion spare 
One minute for a farewell there ? 



172 LALLA ROOKH. 

No — close within, in changeful fits 
Of cursing and of prayer, he sits 
In savage loneliness to brood 
Upon the coming night of blood, — 

With that keen second-scent of death, 
By which the vulture snuffs his food 

In the still warm and living breath I'^^^ 
While o'er the wave his weeping daughter 
Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, — 
As a young bird of Babylon, ^^^ 
Let loose to tell of victory won. 
Flies home, with wing, ah ! not unstain'd 
By the red hands that held her chained. 

And does the long-left home she seeks 

Light up no gladness on her cheeks ? 

The flowers she nurs'd — the well-known groves, 

Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 

Once more to see her dear gazelles 

Come bounding with their silver bells ; 

Her birds' new plumage to behold. 

And the gay, gleaming fishes count. 
She left, all filleted with gold, 

Shooting around their jasper fount ; ^^4 
Her little garden mosque to see. 

And once again, at evening hour. 
To tell her ruby rosary '^'^ 

In her own sweet acacia bower. — 
Can these delights, that wait her now, 
Call up no sunshine on her brow? 
No, — silent, from her train apart, — 
As if e'en now she felt at heart 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 173 

The chill of her approaching doom, — 

She sits, all lovely in her gloom 

As a pale Angel of the Grave ; 

And o'er the wide, tempestuous wave, 

Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, 

Where, in a few short awful hours, 

Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run, 

Foul incense for to-morrow's sun ! 

" Where art thou, glorious stranger! thou, 

So loved, so lost, where art thou now? 

Foe — Gheber — infidel — whatever 

The unhallow'd name thou'rt doom'd to bear, 

Still glorious — still to this fond heart 

Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art ! 

Yes — Alla, dreadful Alla ! yes — 

If there be wrong, be crime in this, 

Let the black waves that round us roll, 

Whelm me this instant, ere my soul. 

Forgetting faith — home — father — all — 

Before its earthly idol fall. 

Nor worship e'en Thyself above him — 

For, oh, so wildly do I love him. 

Thy Paradise itself were dim 

And joyless, if not shared with him ! " 

Her hands were clasp'd — her eyes upturn'd, 

Dropping their tears like moonlight rain ; 
And, though her lip, fond raver ! burn'd 

With words of passion, bold, profane, 
Yet was there light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes, 
W^hich show'd, though wandering earthward now, 

Her spirit's home was in the skies. 



174 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yes — for a spirit pure as hers 
Is always pure, e'en while it errs ; 
As sunshine, broken in the rill, 
Though turn'd astray, is sunshine still ! 

So wholly had her mind forgot 

All thoughts but one, she heeded not 

The rising storm — the wave that cast 

A moment's midnight, as it pass'd — 

Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 

Of gathering tumult o'er her head — 

Clashed swords, and tongues that seem'd to vie 

With the rude riot of the sky. — 

But, hark ! — that war-whoop on the deck — 

That crash, as if each engine there, 
Masts, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 

'Mid yells and stampings of despair ! 
Merciful Heaven ! what can it be ? 
'Tis not the storm, though fearfully 
The ship has shudder'd as she rode 
O'er mountain-waves — " Forgive me, God ! 
Forgive me ! " — shrieked the maid, and knelt, 
Trembling all over — for she felt 
As if her judgment hour was near, 
Wh'le crouching round, half dead with fear, 
Her handmaids clung, nor breath'd, nor stirr'd - 
When, hark ! — a second crash — a third — 
And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
Had riv'n the laboring planks asunder. 
The deck falls in — what horrors then ! 
Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men 
Come mix'd together through the chasm, — 
Some wretches in their dying spasm 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS, 175 

Still fighting on — and some that call 
*' For God and Iran ! " as they fall ! 

Whose was the hand that turn'd away 

The perils of the infuriate fray, 

And snatch'd her breathless from beneath 

This wilderment of wreck and death? 

She knew not — for a faintness came 

Chill o'er her, and her sinking frame 

Amid the ruins of that hour 

Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, 

Beneath the red volcano's shower. 

But, oh ! the sights and sounds of dread 

That shocked her ere her senses fled ! 

The yawning deck — the crowd that strove 

Upon the tottering planks above — 

The sail, whose fragments, shivering o'er 

The strugglers' heads all dash'd with gore, 

Fluttered like bloody flags — the clash 

Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 

Upon their blades, high toss'd about 

Like meteor brands ^^e — as if throughout 

The elements one fury ran, 
One general rage, that left a doubt 

Which was the fiercer. Heaven or Man ! 

Once too — but no — it could not be — 
'Twas fancy all — yet once she thought 

While yet her fading eyes could see, 
High on the ruin'd deck she caught 

A glimpse of that unearthly form. 
That glory of her soul, — e'en then, 

Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, 



176 LALLA ROOKH. 

Shining above his fellow-men, 
As, on some black and troublous night, 
The Star of Egypt, '-^'^'^ whose proud light 
Never hath beamed on those who rest 
In the White Islands of the West,278 
Burns through the storm with looks of flame 
That put Heaven's cloudier eyes to shame. 
But no — 'twas but the minute's dream — 
A fantasy — and ere the scream 
Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, 
A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse 
Of soul and sense its darkness spread 
Around her, and she sunk, as dead. 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone ; 
When warring winds have died away, 
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 
Fresh as if Day again were born, 
Again upon the lap of Morn ! — 
When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will, 
Hang floating in the pure air still. 
Filling it all with precious balm. 
In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 
And every drop the thunder-showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning-gem 279 
Whose liquid flame is born of them ! 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. I'll 

When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, 
There blow a thousand gentle airs, 
And each a different perfume bears, — 

As if the loveliest plants and trees 

Had vassal breezes of their own 

To watch and wait on them alone. 
And waft no other breath than theirs : 

When the blue waters rise and fall, 

In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 

And e'en that swell the tempest leaves 

Is like the full and silent heaves 

Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, 

Too newly to be quite at rest. 

Such was the golden hour that broke 
Upon the v/orld, when Hinda woke 
From her long trance, and heard around 
No motion but the water's sound 
Rippling against the vessel's side, 
As slow it mounted o'er the tide. — 
But where is she? — her eyes are dark. 
Are wilder'd still — is this the bark, 
The same, that from Harmozia's bay 
Bore her at morn — whose bloody way 
The sea-dog track'd ? — no — strange and new 
Is all that meets her wondering view. 
Upon a galliot's deck she lies, 

Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, — 
No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, 

Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. 
But the rude litter, roughly spread 
With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, 



178 LALLA ROOKH. 

And shawl and sash, on javeHns hung, 
For awning o'er her head are flung, 
Shuddering she look'd around — there lay 

A group of warriors in the sun, 
Resting their limbs, as for that day 

Their ministry of death were done. 
Some gazing on the drowsy sea. 
Lost in unconscious reverie ; 
And some, who seem'd but ill to brook 
That sluggish calm, with many a look 
To the slack sail impatient cast. 
As loose it flagged around the mast. 

Blest Alla! who shall save her now? 

There 's not in all that warrior band 
One Arab sword, one turban'd brow 

From her own Faithful Moslem land. 
Their garb — the leathern belt ^^^ that wraps 

Each yellow vest^si — that rebel hue — 
The Tartar fleece upon their caps ^82 

Yes — yes — her fears are all too true, 
And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, 
Abandon'd her to Hafed's power ; — 
Hafed, the Gheber ! — at the thought 

Her very heart's blood chills within ; 
He, whom her soul was hourly taught 

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin. 
Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
To spread its blast, where'er he went, 
And fling, as o'er our earth he trod, 
His shadow betwixt man and God ! 
And she is now his captive, — thrown 
In his fierce hands, alive, alone ; 



I 



THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 179 

His the infuriate band she sees, 
All infidels — all enemies ! 
What was the daring hope that then 
Crossed her like lightning, as again. 
With boldness that despair had lent, 

She darted through that armed crowd 
A look so searching, so intent, 

That e'en the sternest warrior bow'd 
Abash'd, when he her glances caught. 
As if he guess'd whose form they sought? 
But no — she sees him not — 'tis gone. 
The vision that before her shone 
Through all the maze of blood and storm, 
Is fled — 'twas but a phantom form — 
One of those passing, rainbow dreams. 
Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams 
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
In trance or slumber round the soul. 

But now the bark, with livelier bound. 

Scales the blue wave — the crew's in motion, 
The oars are out, and with light sound 

Break the bright mirror of the ocean. 
Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 
And now she sees — with horror sees. 

Their course is tow'rd that mountain-hold, — 
Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, 
Where Mecca's godless enemies 

Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roll'd 

In their last deadly, venomous fold ! 
Amid the illumin'd land and flood 
Sunless that mighty mountain stood ; 



i8o LALLA ROOKH, 

Save where, above its awful head, 
There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, 
As 'twere the flag of destiny 
Hung out to mark where death would be ! 

Had her bewildered mind the power 
Of thought, in this terrific hour, 
She well might marvel where or how 
Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow. 
Since ne'er had Arab heard or known 
Of path but through the glen alone. — 
But every thought was lost in fear, 
When, as their bounding bark drew near 
The craggy base, she felt the waves 
Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves, 
That from the Deep in windings pass . 
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass ; — 
And loud a voice on deck commands 
To lower the mast and light the brands ! — 
Instantly o'er the dashing tide 
Within a cavern's mouth they glide, 
Gloomy as that eternal Porch 

Through which departed spirits go : — 
Not e'en the flare of brand and torch 
Its flickering light could further throw 
Than the thick flood that boil'd below. 
Silent they floated — as if each 
Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech 
In that dark chasm, where even sound 
Seem'd dark, — so sullenly around 



Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave, 
As 'twere some secret of the grave ! 



THE FIRE^WORSHIPPERS. i8i 

But soft — they pause — the current turns 
Beneath them from its onward track ; — 

Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 
The vexed tide, all foaming, back, 

And scarce the oars' redoubled force 

Can stem the eddy's whirling force ; 

When, hark ! — some desperate foot has sprung 

Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 

The oars are up — the grapple clings. 

And the toss'd bark in moorings swings. 

Just then, a day-beam through the shade 

Broke tremulous — but, ere the maid 

Can see from whence the brightness steals, 

Upon her brow she shuddering feels 

A viewless hand, that promptly ties 

A bandage round her burning eyes ; 

While the rude litter where she lies, 

Uplifted by the warrior throng, 

O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 

Blest power of sunshine ! — genial Day, 
What balm, what life is in thy ray ! 
To feel thee is such real bliss. 
That had the world no joy but this, 
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — 
It were a world too exquisite 
For man to leave it for the gloom. 
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. 
E'en HiNDA, though she saw not where 

Or whither wound the perilous road. 
Yet knew by that awakening air. 

Which suddenly around her glow'd, 



i82 LALLA ROOKH. 

That they had risen from darkness then, 

And breath'd the sunny world again! 

But soon this balmy freshness fled — 

For now the steepy labyrinth ^ed 

Through damp and gloom — 'mid crash of boughs, 

And fall of loosened crags that rouse 

The leopard from his hungry sleep, 

Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, 
And long is heard, from steep to steep, 

Chasing them down their thundering way ! 
The jackaPs cry — the distant moan 
Of the hyaena, fierce and lone — 
And that eternal saddening sound 

Of torrents in the glen beneath. 
As 'twere the ever-dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death ! 
All, all is fearful — e'en to see, 

To gaze on those terrific things 
She now but blindly hears, would be 

Relief to her imaginings ; 
Since never yet was shape so dread. 

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown 
And by such sounds of horror fed. 

Could frame more dreadful of her own. 

But does she dream ? has Fear again 

Perplex'd the workings of her brain. 

Or did a voice, all music, then 

Come from the gloom, low whispering near — 

" Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here ! " 

She does not dream — all sense, all ear. 

She drinks the words, " Thy Gheber's here." 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 183 

'Twas his own voice — slie could not err — 

Througliout the breathing world's extent 
There was but one such voice for her, 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! 
Oh, sooner shall the rose of May 

Mistake her own sweet nightingale, 
And to some meaner minstrel's lay 

Open her bosom's glowing veil,^^^ 
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 
A breath of the beloved one 1 

Though blest, 'mid all her ills, to think 

She has that one beloved near, 
Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink. 

Hath power to make e'en ruin dear, — 
Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crost 
By fears for him, is chill'd and lost. 
How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
That one of Gheber blood should look, 
With aught but curses in his eye. 
On her — a maid of Araby — 
A Moslem maid — the child of him. 

Whose bloody banner's dire success 
Hath left their altars cold and dim. 

And their fair land a wilderness ! 
And, worse than all, that night of blood 

Which comes so fast — oh ! who shall stay 
The sword, that once hath tasted food 

Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? 
What arm shall then the victim cover, 
Or from her father shield her lover? 



1 84 LALLA ROOKH. 

*' Save him, my God ! " she inly cries — 
" Save him this night — and if thine eyes 

Have ever welcom'd with delight 
The sinner's tears, the sacrifice 
Of sinners' hearts — guard him this night, 
And here, before Thy throne, I swear 
From my heart's inmost core to tear 

Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
Link'd with each quivering life-string there, 

And give it bleeding all to Thee ! 
Let him but live, — the burning tear, 
The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear. 
Which have been all too much his own, 
Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. 
Youth pass'd in penitence, and age 
In long and painful pilgrimage, 
Shall leave no traces of the flame 
That wastes me now — nor shall his name 
E'er bless my lips, but when I pray 
For his dear spirit, that away 
Casting from its angelic ray 
The eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine 
Redeem'd all glorious and all Thine ! 
Think — think what victory to win 
One radiant soul like his from sin, — 
One wandering star of virtue back 
To its own native, heavenward track ! 
Let him but live, and both are Thine, 

Together Thine — for, blest or crost, 
Living or dead, his doom is mine. 

And, if he perish, both are lost ! " 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 185 

The next evening, Lalla Rookh was entreated 
by her Ladies to continue the relation of her wonder- 
ful dream ; but the fearful interest that hung round 
the fate of Hinda and her lover had completely 
removed every trace of it from her mind ; — much to 
the disappointment of a fair seer or two in her train, 
who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting 
visions, and who had already remarked, as an un- 
lucky omen, that the Princess, on the very morning 
after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blos- 
soms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.'^^^ 

Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than 
once broken out during the recital of some parts of 
this heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made 
up his mind to the infliction ; and took his seat this 
evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the 
Poet resumed his profane and seditious story as 
follows : — 



To tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, 
That lay beneath that mountain's height, 
Had been a fair enchanting sight. 
'Twas one of those ambrosial eves 
A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — when the West 
Opens her golden bowers of rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 



l86 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of some meek penitent, whose last 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! 

'Twas stillness all^ — the winds that late 

Had rush'd through Kerman's almond groves, 
And shaken from her bowers of date 

That cooling feast the traveller loves, 28^ 
Now, luird to languor, scarcely curl 

The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream : 
And her fair islets, small and bright, 

With their green shores reflected there. 
Look like those Peri isles of light, 

That hang by spell-work in the air. 

But vainly did those glories burst 
On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first 
The bandage from her brow was taken, 
And, pale and awed as those who waken 
In their dark tombs — when, scowling near, 
The Searchers of the Grave ^^^ appear, — 
She shuddering turn'd to read her fate 

In the fierce eyes that flashed around ; 
And saw those towers all desolate, 

That o'er her head terrific frown'd, 
As if defying e'en the smile 
Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. 
In vain, with mingled hope and fear. 
She looks for him, whose voice so dear 
Had come, like music, to her ear — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 187 

Strange, mocking dream ! again 'tis fled. 
And oh, the shoots, the pangs of dread 
That through her inmost bosom nm, 

When voices from without proclaim 
" Hafed, the Chief" — and, one by one, 

The warriors sliout that fearful name ! 
He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 
How shall she dare to lift her head. 
Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare 
Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear? 
In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, 
Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, 
As in those hellish fires that light 
The mandrake's charnel leaves at night. ^s'' 
How shall she bear that voice's tone. 
At whose loud battle-cry alone 
Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, 
Scatter'd like some vast caravan, 
When, stretch'd at evening round the well. 
They hear the thirsting tiger's yell ! 
Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down. 
Shrinking beneath the fiery frown 
Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
Is flashing o'er her fiercely now : 
And shuddering as she hears the tread 

Of his retiring warrior band. — 
Never was pause so full of dread ; 

Till Hafed with a trembling hand 
Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, 
" HiNDA ; " — that word was all he spoke. 
And 'twas enough — the shriek that broke 

From her full bosom told the rest. — 



l88 LALLA ROOKH. 

Panting with terror, joy, surprise, 
The maid but Hfts her wondering eyes, 

To hide them on her Gheber^s breast ! 
'Tis he, 'tis he — the man of blood, 
The fellest of the Fire-fiend's brood, 
Hafed, the demon of the fight, 
Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, — 
Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
And glorious as when first he smiPd 
In her lone tower, and left such beams 
Of his pure eye to light her dreams. 
That she believ'd her bower had given 
Rest to some wanderer from heaven. 

Moments there are, and this was one, 
Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoom's eclipse — 

Or, like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the cr3,ter's burning lips. 

Sweetening the very edge of doom ! 
The past — the future — all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last ! 

Even he, this youth — though dimm'd and gone 

Each star of Hope that cheer'd him on — 

His glories lost — his cause betray'd — 

Iran, his dear-lov'd country, made 

A land of carcasses and slaves. 

One dreary waste of chains and graves ! — 

Himself but lingering, dead at heart, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 189 

To see the last, long struggling breath 
Of Liberty's great soul depart, 

Then lay him down and share her death — 
Even he, so sunk in wretchedness, 

With doom still darker gathering o'er him, 
Yet, in this moment's pure caress. 

In the mild eyes that shone before him, 
Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
All other transports known on earth. 
That he was lov'd — well, warmly lov'd — 
Oh ! in this precious hour he prov'd 
How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of woe ; — 
How exquisite one single drop 
Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top 
Of misery's cup — how keenly quaflf'd. 
Though death must follow on the draught ! 

She, too, while gazing on those eyes 

That sink into her soul so deep. 
Forgets all fears, all miseries. 

Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, 
Whom fancy cheats into a smile. 
Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while ! 
The mighty Ruins where they stood. 

Upon the mount's high, rocky verge, 
Lay open tow'rds the ocean flood. 

Where lightly o'er the illumin'd surge 
Many a fair bark that, all the day. 
Had lurk'd in sheltering creek or bay. 
Now bounded on, and gave their sails, 
Yet dripping, to the evening gales ; 



190 LALLA ROOKH. 

Like eagles, when the storm is done, 
Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 
The beauteous clouds, though daylight's Star 
Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 

Were still with lingering glories bright, — 
As if, to grace the gorgeous West, 

The Spirit of departing Light 
That eve had left his sunny vest 

Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. 
Never was scene so form'd for love ! 
Beneath them waves of crystal move 
In silent swell — Heaven glows above. 
And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell like the wave, and glow like Heaven. 

But, ah ! too soon that dream is past — 

Again, again her fear returns ; — 
Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, 

More faintly the horizon burns. 
And every rosy tint that lay 
On the smooth sea hath died away. 
Hastily to the darkening skies 
A glance she casts — then wildly cries : 
" At night, he said — and look, 'tis near ^ 

Fly, fly — if yet thou lov'st me, fly — 
Soon will his murderous band be here. 

And I shall see thee bleed and die. — 
Hush ! heard'st thou not the tramp of men 
Sounding from yonder fearful glen? — 
Perhaps e'en now they climb the wood — 

Fly, fly — though still the West is bright. 
He'll come — oh ! yes — he wants thy blood - 

I know him — he'll not wait for night ! " 



THE FiRE-lVORSHIPPERS. 19 1 

In terrors e'en to agony 

She clings around the wondering Chief; — 
" Alas, poor wilder'd maid ! to me 

Thou ow'st this raving trance of grief. 
Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
Beneath my shade but perish'd too — 
My doom is like the Dead Sea air. 
And nothing lives that enters there ! 
Why were our barks together driven 
Beneath this morning's furious heaven? 
Why when I saw the prize that chance 

Had thrown into my desperate arms, — 
When, casting but a single 'glance 

Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, 
I vow'd (though watching viewless o'er 

Thy safety through that hour's alarms) 
To meet the unmanning sight no more — 
Why have I broke that heart-wrung vow? 
Why weakly, madly met thee now? — 
Start not — that noise is but the shock 

Of torrents through yon valley hurl'd — 
Dread nothing here — upon this rock 

We stand above the jarring world. 
Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 
In gloomy safety, like the Dead ! 
Or, could e'en earth and hell unite 
In league to storm this Sacred Height, 
Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night, 
And each o'erlooking star that dwells 
Near God, will be thy sentinels ; — 
And ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow. 
Back to thy sire — " 



192 LALLA ROOKH. 

" To-morrow ! — no " — 
The maiden scream'd — " thou'lt never see 
To-morrow's sun — death, death will be 
The night-cry through each reeking tower, 
Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour ! 
Thou art betrayed — some wretch who knew 
That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
Nay, doubt not — by yon stars, 'tis true — 
Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire ; 
This morning, with that smile so dire 
He wears in joy, he told me all. 
And stamp'd in triumph through our hall, 
As though thy heart already beat 
Its last life-throb beneath his feet ! 
Good Heaven, how little dream'd I then 

His victim was my own lov'd youth ! — 
Fly — send — let some one watch the glen — 

By all my hopes of heaven 'tis truth ! " 

Oh ! colder than the wind that freezes 

Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, 
Is that congealing pang which seizes 

The trusting bosom, when betray'd. 
He felt it — deeply felt — and stood. 
As if the tale had frozen his blood. 

So maz'd and motionless was he ; — 
Like one whom sudden spells enchant. 
Or some mute, marble habitant 

Of the still Halls of Ishmonie! 288 

But soon the painful chill was o'er. 
And his great soul, herself once more, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 193 

LookM from his brow in all the rays 
Of her best, happiest, grandest days. 
Never, in moment most elate, 

Did that high spirit loftier rise ; — 
While bright, serene, determinate, 

His looks are Hfted to the skies. 
As if the signal lights of Fate 

Were shining in those awful eyes ! 
'Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
In Iran"'s sacred cause is come ; 
And, though his life hath pass'd away 
Like lightning on a stormy day. 
Yet shall his death-hour leave a track 

Of glory, permanent and bright. 
To which the brave of after-times. 
The suffering brave, shall long look back 

With proud regret, — and by its light 

Watch through the hours of slavery's night 
For vengeance on the oppressor's crimes. 
This rock, his monument aloft, 

Shall speak the tale to many an age ; 
And hither bards and heroes oft 

Shall come in secret pilgrimage, 
And bring their warrior sons, and tell 
The wondering boys where Hafed fell ; 
And swear them on those lone remains 
Of their lost country's ancient fanes. 
Never — while breath of life shall live 
Within them — never to forgive 
The accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
Hath left on Iran's neck a stain 
Blood, blood alone can cleanse again! 



194 LALLA ROOKH. 

Such are the swelling thoughts that now 
Enthrone themselves on Hafed's brow ; 
And ne'er did saint of Issa ^s^ gaze 

On the red wreath, for martyrs twinM, 
More proudly than the youth surveys 

That pile, which through the gloom behind, 
Half lighted by the altar's fire, 
Glimmers — his destined funeral pyre ! 
Heap'd by his own, his comrades' hands. 

Of every wood of odorous breath, 
There, by the Fire-God's shrine it stands. 

Ready to fold in radiant death 
The few, still left of those who swore 
To perish there, when hope was o'er — 
The few, to whom that couch of flame, 
Which rescues them from bonds and shame, 
Is sweet and welcome as the bed 
For their own infant Prophet spread, 
When pitying Heaven to roses turn'd 
The death-flames that beneath him burn'd ! 290 

With watchfulness the maid attends 

His rapid glance, where'er it bends — 

Why shoot his eyes such awful beams ? 

What plans he now ? what thinks or dreams ? 

Alas ! why stands he musing here. 

When every moment teems with fear? 

" Hafed, my own beloved Lord," 

She kneeling cries — " first, last ador'd ! 

If in that soul thou'st ever felt 

Half what thy lips impassion'd swore, 
Here, on my knees that never knelt 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 195 

To any but their God before, 
I pray thee, as thou lov^st me, fly — 
Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 
Oh haste — the bark that brought me hither 

Can waft us o^er yon darkening sea 
East — west — alas, I care not whither, 

So thou art safe, and I with thee ! 
Go where we will, this hand in thine, 

Those eyes before me smiling thus. 
Through good and ill, through storm and shine, 

The world's a world of love for us ! 
On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell. 
Where 'tis no crime to love too well ; — 
Where thus to worship tenderly 
An erring child of light like thee 
Will not be sin — or, if it be, 
Where we may weep our faults away, 
Together kneeling, night and day. 
Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, 
And 1 — at any God's for thine ! " 

Wildly these passionate words she spoke — 
Then hung her head, and wept for shame ; 

Sobbing as if a heart-string broke 

With every deep-heav'd sob that came. 

While he, young, warm — oh ! wonder not 
If, for a moment, pride and fame. 
His oath — his cause — that shrine of flame, 

And Iran's self are all forgot 

For her whom at his feet he sees 

Kneeling in speechless agonies. 

No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 

Dawn'd in his soul, and threw her smile 



196 LALLA ROOKH. 

O'er hours to come — o'er days and nights, 
Wing'd with those precious, pure dehghts 
Which she, who bends all beauteous there, 
Was born to kindle and to share. 
A tear or two, which, as he bow'd 

To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, 
First warned him of this dangerous cloud 

Of softness passing o'er his soul. 
Starting, he brush'd the drops away. 
Unworthy o'er that cheek to stray ; — 
Like one who, on the morn of fight, 
Shakes from his sword the dews of night, 
That had but dimm'd, not stain'd its light. 
Yet, though subdued the unnerving thrill, 
Its warmth, its weakness linger d still, 

So touching in each look and tone 
That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
Half counted on the flight she pray'd, 

Half thought the hero's soul was grown 

As soft, as yielding as her own, 
And smiPd and bless'd him, while he said, - 
*' Yes — if there be some happier sphere. 
Where fadeless truth like ours is dear, — 
If there be any land of rest 

For those who love and ne'er forget. 
Oh ! comfort thee — for safe and blest 

We'll meet in that calm region yet ! " 

Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
If good or ill these words impart. 
When the rous'd youth impatient flew 
To the tower-wall, where, high in view, 
A ponderous sea-horn ^^i hung, and blew 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 197 

A signal, deep and dread as those 
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. — 
Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true 
Through life and death, that signal knew ; 
For 'twas the appointed warning-blast, 
The alarm, to tell when hope was past, 
And the tremendous death-die cast ! . 
And there, upon the mouldering tower, 
Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour, 
Ready to sound o'er land and sea 
That dirge-note of the brave and free. 
They came — his Chieftains at the call 
Came slowly round, and with them all — 
Alas, how few ! — the worn remains 
Of those who late o'er Kerman's plains 
Went gayly prancing to the clash 

Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, 
Catching new hope from every flash 

Of their long lances in the sun, 
And, as their coursers charg'd the wind, 
And the white ox-tails stream'd behind, ^^^ 
Looking as if the steeds they rode 
Were wing'd, and every Chief a God ! 
How fallen, how alter'd now ! how wan 
Each scarr'd and faded visage shone. 
As round the burning shrine they came ! — 

How deadly was the glare it cast. 
As mute they paus'd before the flame 

To light their torches as they pass'd ! 
'Twas silence all — the youth had plann'd 
The duties of his soldier-band ; 
And each determin'd brow declares 
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. 



198 LALLA ROOKH, 

But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 
And oh, how soon, ye blessed eyes, 
That look from heaven, ye may behold 
Sights that will turn your star-fires cold ! 
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope, 
The maiden sees the veteran group 
Her litter silently prepare, 

And lay it at her trembling feet ; — 
And now the youth, with gentle care, 

Hath placed her in the shelterM seat, 
And press''d her hand — that lingering press 

Of hands, that for the last time sever ; 
Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, 

When that hold breaks, is dead forever. 
And yet to her this sad caress 

Gives hope — so fondly hope can err ! 
'Twas joy, she thought, joy^s mute excess — 

Their happy flight's dear harbinger ; 
'Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

'Twas anything but leaving her. 

" Haste, haste ! " she cried, " the clouds grow dark, 
But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark ; 
And by to-morrow's dawn — oh bliss ! 

With thee upon the sun-bright deep, 
Far off, ril but remember this. 

As some dark vanished dream of sleep ; 
And thou " but ah ! — he answers not — 

Good Heaven ! — and does she go alone? 
She now has reached that dismal spot, 

Where, some hours since, his voice's tone 
Had come to soothe her fears and ills. 
Sweet as the angel Israfil's,-^^ 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 199 

When every leaf on Eden's tree 
Is trembling to his minstrelsy — 
Yet now — oh, now, he is not nigh. — 

" Hafed ! my Hafed ! — if it be 
Thy will, thy doom this night to die. 

Let me but stay to die with thee, 
And I will bless thy loved name. 
Till the last life-breath leave this frame. 
Oh ! let our lips, our cheeks be laid 
But near each other while they fade ; 
Let us but mix our parting breaths. 
And I can die ten thousand deaths ! 
You too, who hurry me away 
So cruelly, one moment stay — 

Oh ! stay — one moment is not much — 
He yet may come — for him I pray — 
Hafed ! dear Hafed ! — " all the way 

In wild lamentings, that would touch 
A heart of stone, she shrieked his name 
To the dark woods — no Hafed came : — 
No — hapless pair — you've look'd your last : — 

Your hearts should both have broken then : 
The dream is o'er — your doom is cast — 

You'll never meet on earth again ! 

Alas for him, who hears her cries ! 

Still half-way down the steep he stands. 
Watching with fix'd and feverish eyes 

The glimmer of those burning brands. 
That down the rocks, with mournful ray, 
Light all he loves on earth away ! 
Hopeless as they who, far at sea, 



200 LALLA ROOKH. 

By the cold moon have just consigned 
The corse of one, lov'd tenderly, 

To the bleak flood they leave behind ; 
And on the deck still lingering stay, 
And long look back, with sad delay. 
To watch the moonlight on the wave, 
That ripples o'er that cheerless grave. 

But see — he starts — what heard he then ? 

That dreadful shout ! — across the glen 

From the land-side it comes, and loud 

Rings through the chasm ; as if the crowd 

Of fearful things, that haunt that dell. 

Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell. 

Had all in one dread howl broke out, 

So loud, so terrible that shout ! 

" They come — the Moslems come !" he cries. 

His proud soul mounting to his eyes, — 

" Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam 

Enfranchised through yon starry dome, 

Rejoice — for souls of kindred fire 

Are on the wing to join your choir ! " 

He said — and, light as bridegrooms bound 

To their young loves, reclimb'd the ste^p 
And gain'd the Shrine — his Chiefs stood round- 

Their swords, as with instinctive leap. 
Together, at that cry accurst. 
Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. 
And hark ! — again — again it rings ; 
Near and more near its echoings 
Peal through the chasm — oh ! who that then 
Had seen those listening warrior-men, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 20 1 

With their swords grasp'd, their eyes of flame 
Turned on their Chief — could doubt the shame, 
The indignant shame witli which they thrill 
To hear those shouts and yet stand still? 

He read their thoughts — they were his own — 

" What! while our arms can wield these blades, 
Shall we die tamely? die alone? 

Without one victim to our shades, 
One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, 
The sabre from its toil may sleep? 
No — God of Iran's burning skies ! 
Thou scorn'st the inglorious sacrifice. 
No — though of all earth's hope bereft. 
Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. 
We'll make yon valley's reeking caves 

Live in the awe-struck minds of men,« 
Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 

Tell of the Gheber's bloody glen. 
Follow, brave hearts ! — this pile remains 
Our refuge still from life and chains ; 
But his the best, the holiest bed, 
Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead ! " 
Down the precipitous rocks they sprung. 
While vigor, more than human, strung 
Each arm and heart. — The exulting foe 
Still through the dark defiles below, 
Track'd by his torches' lurid fire,'^^* 

Wound slow, as through Golconda's vale ^94 
The mighty serpent, in his ire, 

Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. 
No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
They know each mystery of the dell, 



202 LALLA ROOKH. 

So oft have, in their wanderings, 

Cross'd the wild race that round them dwell. 

The very tigers from their delves 
Look out, and let them pass, as things 

Untam'd and fearless like themselves ! 

There was a deep ravine, that lay 

Yet darkling in the Moslem's way ; 

Fit spot to make invaders rue 

The many fallen before the few. 

The torrents from that morning's sky, 

Had fiird the narrow chasm breast high, 

And, on each side, aloft and wild. 

Huge cliffs and toppling crags were pil'd, 

The guards with which young Freedom lines 

The pathways to her mountain-shrines. 

Here, at thia pass, the scanty band 

Of Iran's last avengers stand ; 

Here wait, in silence like the dead, 

And listen for the Moslem's tread 

So anxiously, the carrion-bird 

Above them flaps his wing unheard ! 

They come — that plunge into the water 
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 
Now, Ghebers, now — if e'er your blades 

Had point or prowess, prove them now — 
Woe to the file that foremost wades ! 

They come — a falchion greets each brow, 
And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk. 
Beneath the gory waters sunk. 
Still o'er their drowning bodies press 
New victims quick and numberless ; 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 203 

Till scarce an arm in Hafed's band, 
So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, 

But listless from each crimson hand 

The sword hangs, clogg'd with massacre. 

Never was horde of tyrants met 

With bloodier welcome — never yet 

To patriot vengeance hath the sword 

More terrible libations pour'd. 

All up the dreary, long ravine, ' 
By the red, murky glimmer seen 
Of half-quench'd brands that o'er the flood 
Lie scattered round and burn in blood. 
What ruin glares ! what carnage swims ! 
Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs, 
Lost swords that, dropped from many a hand. 
In that thick pool of slaughter stand ; — 
Wretches who wading, half on fire 

From the toss'd brands that round them fly, 
'Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire ; 

And some who, grasp'd by those that die. 
Sink woundless with them, smothered o'er 
In their dead brethren's gushing gore ! 

But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, 
Still hundreds, thousands more succeed ; 
Countless as tow'rds some flame at night 
The North's dark insects wing their flight, 
And quench or perish in its light. 
To this terrific spot they pour — 
Till, bridg'd with Moslem bodies o'er, 
It bears aloft their slippery tread, 
And o'er the dying and the dead, 



204 LALLA ROOKH. 

Tremendous causeway ! on they pass. 

Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas! 

What hope was left for you ? for you, 

Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 

Is smoking in their vengeful eyes ? 

Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, 

And burn with shame to find how few ? 

CrushM down by that vast multitude. 

Some found their graves where first they stood ; 

While some with hardier struggle died, 

And still fought on by Hafed's side. 

Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 

Tow'rds the high towers his gory track ; 

And, as a Hon swept away 

By sudden swell of Jordan's pride 
From the wild covert where he lay,^^^ 

Long battles with the overwhelming tide, 
So fought he back with fierce delay. 
And kept both foes and fate at bay. 

But whither now? their track is lost. 

Their prey escaped — guide, torches gone — 

By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost. 
The scattered crowd rush blindly on — 

" Curse on those tardy lights that wind," 

They panting cry, " so far behind ; 

Oh for a bloodhound's precious scent. 

To track the way the Gheber went ! " 

Vain wish — confusedly along 

They rush, more desperate as more wrong: 

Till, wilderd by the far-off" lights. 

Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 205 

Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss, 

And down the darkling precipice 

Are dash'd into the deep abyss ; 

Or midway hang, impaPd on rocks, 

A banquet, yet alive, for flocks 

Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 

Re-echoes with each horrible yell. 

Those sounds — the last, to vengeance dear. 
That e'er shall ring in Hafed's ear, — 
Now reach'd him, as aloft, alone, 
Upon the steep way breathless thrown. 
He lay beside his reeking blade. 

Resigned, as if life's task were o'er. 
Its last blood-offering amply paid. 

And Iran's self could claim no more. 
One only thought, one lingering beam 
Now broke across his dizzy dream 
Of pain and weariness — 'twas she. 

His heart's pure planet, shining yet 
Above the waste of memory, 

When all life's other lights were set. 
And never to his mind before 
Her image such enchantment wore. 
It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd. 

Each fear that chill'd their loves, was past. 
And not one cloud of earth remained 

Between him and her radiance cast ; — 
As if to charms, before so bright. 

New grace from other worlds was given. 
And his soul saw her by the light 

Now breaking o'er itself from heaven ! 



2o6 LALLA ROOKH. 

A voice spoke near him — 'twas the tone 

Of a lov'd friend, the only one 

Of all his warriors, left with life 

From that short night's tremendous strife. — 

" And must we then, my Chief, die here ? 

Foes round us, and the Shrine so near ! " 

These words have rous'd the last remains 

Of life within him — ' ' What ! not yet 
Beyond the reach of Moslem chains ! " 

The thought could make e'en Death forget 
His icy bondage — with a bound 
He springs, all bleeding, from the ground, 
And grasps his comrade's arm, now gx'own 
E'en feebler, heavier than his own, 
And up the painful pathway leads. 
Death gaining on each step he treads. 
Speed them, thou God, who heard'st their vow ! 
They mount — they bleed — oh, save them now ! 
The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er. 
The rock-weed's dripping with their gore ; — 
Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length, 
Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength ! 
Haste, haste — the voices of the Foe 
Come near and nearer from below — 
One effort more — thank Heaven ! 'tis past, 
They've gain'd the topmost steep at last. 
And now they touch the temple's walls, 

Now Hafed sees the Fire divine — 
When, lo! — his weak, worn comrade falls 

Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. 
" Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled ! 

And must I leave thee withering; here. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 207 

The sport of every ruffian's tread, 

The mark for every coward's spear? 
No, by yon altar's sacred beams ! " 
He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
Of the fallen Chief, and tow'rds the flame 
Bears him along ; — with death-damp hand 

The corpse upon the pyre he lays, 
Then lights the consecrated brand. 

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea. — 
" Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee," 
The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
Of triumph vaulting on the pile 
In that last effort, ere the fires 
Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires ! 

What shriek was that on Oman's tide? 

It came from yonder drifting bark, 
That just hath caught upon her side 

The death-light — and again is dark. 
It is the boat — ah, why delay'd? — 
That bears the wretched Moslem maid ; 
Confided to the watchful care 

Of a small veteran band, with whom 
Their generous Chieftain would not share 

The secret of his final doom. 
But hop'd when Hinda, safe and free, 

Was render'd to her father's eyes, 
Their pardon, full and prompt, would be 

The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
Unconscious, thus, of Hafed's fate. 
And proud to guard their beauteous freight, 



2o8 LALLA ROOKH. 

Scarce had they cleared the surfy waves 
That foam around those frightful caves, 
When the curst war-whoops, known so well, 
Came echoing from the distant dell — 
Sudden each oar, upheld and still, 

Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, 
And, driving at the current's will, 

They rock'd along the whispering tide ; 
While every eye, in mute dismay. 

Was tow'rd that fatal mountain turn'd, 
Where the dim altar's quivering ray 

As yet all lone and tranquil burn'd. 

Oh ! 'tis not, Hinda, in the power 

Of Fancy's most terrific touch 
To paint thy pangs in that dread hour — 

Thy silent agony — 'twas such 
As those who feel could paint too well, 
But none e'er felt and lived to tell ! 
'Twas not alone the dreary state 
Of a lorn spirit crush'd by fate, 
When, though no more remains to dread, 

The panic chill will not depart ; — 
When, though the inmate Hope be dead. 

Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart. 
No — pleasures, hopes, affections gone, 
The wretch may bear, and yet live on. 
Like things, within the cold rock found 
Alive, when all's congeal'd around. 
But there's a blank repose in this, 
A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, 
Now felt through all thy breast and brain ; — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 209 

That spasm of terror, mute, intense, 
That breathless, agonizM suspense. 
From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching, 
The heart hath no relief but breaking ! 

Calm is the wave — heaven's brilliant lights 

Reflected dance beneath the prow ; — 
Time was when, on such lovely nights. 

She who is there, so desolate now. 
Could sit all cheerful, though alone. 

And ask no happier joy than seeing 
That starlight o'er the waters thrown — 
No joy but that, to make her blest. 

And the fresh, buoyant sense of being. 
Which bounds in youth's yet careless breast, — 
Itself a star, not borrowing light, 
But in its own glad essence bright. 
How different now ! — but, hark, again 
The yell of havoc rings ! — brave men, 
In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
On the bark's edge — in vain each hand 
Half draws the falchion from its sheath ; 

All's o'er — in rust your blades may lie : — 
He, at whose word they've scatter'd death, 

E'en now, this night, himself must die ! 
Well may ye look to yon dim tower. 

And ask, and wondering guess what means 
The battle-cry at this dead hour — 

Ah ! she could tell you — she, who leans 
Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast. 
With brow against the dew-cold mast ; 

Too well she knows — her more than life, 



2IO LALLA ROOKH. 

Her souPs first idol and its last, 

Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. 

But see — what moves upon the height ? 
Some signal ! — 'tis a torch's light. 

What bodes its solitary glare ? 
In gasping silence tow'rd the Shrine 
All eyes are turn'd — thine, Hinda, thine 

Fix their last fading life-beams there. 
'T was but a moment — fierce and high 
The death-pile blaz'd into the sky, 
And far away, o'er rock and flood, 

Its melancholy radiance sent ; 
While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
ReveaPd before the burning pyre. 
Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 

Shrin'd in its own grand element ! 
" 'T is he ! " — the shuddering maid exclaims, 

But, while she speaks, he's seen no more; 
High burst in air the funeral flames. 

And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er ! 
One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave ; 

Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, 

Where still she fix'd her dying gaze. 
And, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 
Deep, deep, — where never care or pain 
Shall reach her innocent heart again ! 



Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! 
(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea,) 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 211 

No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, 
More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee. 

Oh ! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, 
How light was thy heart till Love's witchery came. 

Like the wind of the south ^96 o'er a summer lute 
blowing, 
And hush'd all its music, and withered its frame ! 

But long, upon Araby's green sunny highlands, 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom 

Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, 
With nought but the sea-star ^97 to light up her 
tomb. 

And still, when the merry date-season is burning,^^^ 
And calls to the palm-groves the young and the 
old. 

The happiest there, from their pastime returning 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The young village-maid, when with flowers she 
dresses 

Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, 
Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, 

She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 

Nor shall Iran, belov'd of her Hero ! forget thee — 
Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start. 

Close, close by the side of that Hero she'll set thee, 
Embalm'd in the innermost shrine of her heart. 



212 LALLA ROOKH. 

Farewell — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 

With everything beauteous that grows in the deep ; 

Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ; 299 

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath'd cham- 
ber 
We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, 
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 

We-ll seek where the sands of the Caspian ^oo are 
sparkling, 
And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 

Farewell — farewell — until Pity's sweet fountain 
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, 
They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that 
mountain, 
They'll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this 
wave. 



The singular placidity with which Fadladeen 
had listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious 
story, surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceed- 
ingly ; and even inclined towards him the hearts of 
these unsuspicious young persons, who little knew 
the source of a complacency so marvellous. The 
truth was, he had been organizing, for the last few 



LALLA ROOKH. 213 

days, a most notable plan of persecution against the 
Poet, in consequence of some passages that had 
fallen from him on the second evening of recital, — 
which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to con- 
tain language and principles, for which nothing short 
of the summary criticism of the Chabuk ^oi would be 
advisable. It was his intention, therefore, imme- 
diately on their arrival at Cashmere, to give informa- 
tion to the King of Bucharia of the very dangerous 
sentiments of his minstrel ; and if, unfortunately, 
that monarch did not act with suitable vigor on the 
occasion, (that is, if he did not give the Chabuk to 
Feramorz, and a place to Fadladeen,) there would 
be an end, he feared, of all legitimate government in 
Bucharia. He could not help, however, auguring 
better both for himself and the cause of potentates 
in general ; and it was the pleasure arising from these 
mingled anticipations that diffused such unusual 
satisfaction through his features, and made his eyes 
shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the wide 
and lifeless wilderness of that countenance. 

Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in 
this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare 
him the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, 
when they assembled the following evening in the 
pavilion, and Lalla Rookh was expecting to see 
all the beauties of her bard melt away, one by one, 
in the acidity of criticism, hke pearls in the cup of 
the Egyptian queen, — he agreeably disappointed 
her, by merely saying, with an ironical smile, that 
the merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a 



214 LALLA ROOKH. 

much higher tribunal ; and then suddenly passed off 
into a panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, 
more particularly his august and Imperial master, 
Aurungzebe, — the wisest and best of the descend- 
ants of Timur, — who, among other great things he 
had done for mankind, had given to him, Fadla- 
DEEN, the very profitable posts of Betel-carrier and 
Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief Holder of 
the Girdle of Beautiful Forms, ^^'^ and Grand Nazir, 
or Chamberlain of the Haram. 

They were now not far from that Forbidden 
River, ^'^^ beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass ; 
and were reposing for a time in the rich valley of 
Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favorite 
resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migra- 
tions to Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the 
Faith, Jehan-Guire, been known to wander with his 
beloved and beautiful Nourmahal ; and here would 
Lalla Rookh have been happy to remain forever, 
giving up the throne of Bucharia and the world for 
Feramorz and love in this sweet, lonely valley. 
But the time was now fast approaching when she 
must see him no longer, — or, what was still worse, 
behold him with eyes whose every look belonged to 
another ; and there was a melancholy preciousness 
in these last moments, which made her heart cling 
to them as it would to life. During the latter part of 
the journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sad- 
ness, from which nothing but the presence of the 
young minstrel could awake her. Like those lamps 
in tombs, which only light up when the air is ad- 



LALLA KOOKH. 215 

mitted, it was only at his approach that her eyes 
became smiling and animated. But here, in this 
dear valley, every moment appeared an age of pleas- 
ure ; she saw him all day, and was, therefore, all day 
happy, — resembling, she often thought, that people 
of Zinge, who attribute the unfading cheerfulness 
they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over 
their heads. ^^^ 

The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest 
mood diiring the few days they passed in this delight- 
ful solitude. The young attendants of the Princess, 
who were here allowed a much freer range than they 
could safely be indulged with in a less sequestered 
place, ran wild among the gardens and bounded 
through the meadows, lightly as young roes over the 
aromatic plains of Tibet. While Fadladeen, in 
addition to the spiritual comfort derived by him from 
a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint from whom 
the valley is named, had also opportunities of indul- 
ging, in a small way, his taste for victims, by putting 
to death some hundreds of those unfortunate little 
lizards ^^^ which all pious Mussulmans make it a 
point to kill ; — taking for granted, that the manner 
in which the creature hangs its head is meant as a 
mimicry of the attitude in which the Faithful say 
their prayers. 

About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those 
Royal Gardens ^^'^ which had grown beautiful under 
the care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful 
still, though those eyes could see them no longer. 



2i6 LALLA ROOKH. 

This place, with its flowers and its holy silence, 
interrupted only by the dipping of the wings of 
birds in its marble basins filled with the pure water 
of those hills, was to Lalla Rookh all that her 
heart could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and almost 
heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Da- 
mascus, " It was too delicious ; "8°'^ and here, in lis- 
tening to the sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading 
in his eyes what yet he never dared to tell her, 
the most exquisite moments of her whole life were 
passed. One evening, when they had been talking 
of the Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,808 
who had so often wandered among these flowers, and 
fed with her own hands, in those marble basins, the 
small shining fishes of which she was so fond,^^^ — 
the youth, in order to delay the moment of separa- 
tion, proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhap- 
sody, of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. 
It related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of 
lovers' quarrel which took place between her and the 
Emperor during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere ; and 
would remind the Princess of that diff*erence between 
Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida^io 
which was so happily made up by the soft strains of 
the musician Moussali. As the story was chiefly to 
be told in song, and Feramorz had unluckily for- 
gotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the 
vina of Lalla Rookh's little Persian slave, and 
thus began : 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 



Who has not heard of the vale of Cashmere, 

With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,^^i 

Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 
As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? 

Oh ! to see it at sunset, — vv^hen warm o'er the Lake 

Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws. 
Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingVing to take 

A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes ! — 
When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming 

half shown. 
And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. 
Here the music of pray'r from a minaret swells, 
Here the Magian his urn, full of perfume, is 
swinging, 
And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 

Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is 
ringing. 312 

Or to see it by moonlight, — when mellowly shines 
The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines ; 
When the water-falls gleam, like a quick fall of stars, 
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars 
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
From the cool, shining walks where the young peo- 
ple meet. — 

217 



2i8 LALLA ROOKH. 

Or at morn, when the magic of dayUght awakes 
A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks. 
Hills, cupolas, fountains, calPd forth every one 
Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. 
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, 
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away ; 
And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a lover 
The young aspen-trees, ^^-^ till they tremble all over. 
When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes. 

And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurPd, 
Shines in through the mountainous portal -s^-* that 
opes. 

Sublime, from that Valley of Bliss to the world ! 

But never yet, by night or day, 
In dew of spring or summer's ray, 
Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 
As now it shines — all love and light. 
Visions by day and feasts by night ! 
A happier smile illumes each brow. 

With quicker spread each heart encloses, 
And all is ecstasy — for now 

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses ; 3i5 
The joyous Time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round, and, in their shower, 
Hearts open, like the Season's Rose, — 

The Flow'ret of a hundred leaves, ^^"^ 
Expanding while the dew-fall flows, 

And every leaf its balm receives. 

'Twas when the hour of evening came 

Upon the Lake, serene and cool. 
When Day had hid his sultry flame 



THE LIGHT OF THE HAKAM. 

Behind the pahns of Baramoule,317 
When maids began to lift their heads, 
Refresh'd from their embroider'd beds, 
Where they had slept the sun away, 
And wakM to moonlight and to play. 
All were abroad — the busiest hive 
On Bela's^i^ hills is less alive, 
When saffron-beds are full in flower, 
Than look'd the Valley in that hour. 
A thousand restless torches play'd 
Through every grove and island shade ; 
A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
On every dome and minaret ; 
And fields and pathways, far and near. 
Were lighted by a blaze so clear. 
That you could see, in wandering round. 
The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
Yet did the maids and matrons leave 
Their veils at home, that brilliant eve ; 
And there were glancing eyes about. 
And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 
In open day, but thought they might 
Look lovely then, because "twas night. 
And all were free, and wandering. 

And all exclaimed to all they met. 
That never did the summer bring 

So gay a Feast of Roses yet ; — 
The moon had never shed a light 

So clear as that which blessed them there ; 
The roses ne'er shone half so bright. 

Nor they themselves look'd half so fair. 



220 LALLA ROOKH. 

And what a wilderness of flowers ! 

It seem'd as though from all the bowers 

And fairest fields of all the year, 

The mingled spoil were scatter^ here. 

The Lake, too, like a garden breathes, 
With the rich buds that o'er it lie, — 

As if a shower of fairy wreaths 
Had falPn upon it from the sky ! 

And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 

Of tabors and of dancing feet ; — 

The minaret -crier's chant of glee 

Sung from his lighted gallery, ^19 

And answered by a ziraleet 

From neighboring Haram, wild and sweet ; — 

The merry laughter, echoing 

From gardens, where the silken swing ^-'^ 

Wafts some delighted girl above 

The top leaves of the orange grove ; 

Or, from those infant groups at play 

Among the tents ^-^ that line the way, 

FHnging, unaw'd by slave or mother, 

Handfuls of roses at each other. — 
Then, the sounds from the Lake, the low whispering 
in boats. 

As they shoot through the moonlight ; — the dip- 
ping of oars. 
And the wild, airy warbling that everywhere 
floats. 

Through the groves, round the islands, as if all 
the shores, 
Like those of Kathay, utter'd music, and gave 
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.^^^ 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 221 

But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of 

feeling, 
That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, — 
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching 

power 
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 
Oh ! best of delights as it everywhere is 
To be near the lov'd One, — what a rapture is his 
Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may 

glide 
O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that 0?ie by his 

side ! 
If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
Think, think what a Heaven she must make of 

Cashmere ! 
So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar,323 
When from power and pomp and the trophies of 

war 
He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 
With the Light of the Haram, his young NouR- 

MAHAL. 

When free and uncrown'd as the Conqueror rov'd 
By the banks of that Lake, with his only belov'd. 
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch 
From the hedges, a glory his crown could not 

match. 
And preferred, in his heart the least ringlet that 

curPd 
Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. 

There's a beauty, forever unchangingly bright. 
Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day's light, 



222 LALLA ROOKH. 

Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendor. 
This was not the beauty — oh, nothing like this. 
That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of 

bliss ! 
But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days, 
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies 
From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the 

eyes ; 
Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams. 
Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heav'n in his 

dreams. 
When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace. 
That charm of all others, was born with her face ! 
And when angry, — for e''en in the tranquillest climes 
Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes — 
The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken 
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when 

shaken. 
If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye 
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, 
From the depth of whose shadow, like holy reveal- 

ings 
From innermost shrines, came the light of her feel- 
ings. 
Then her mirth — oh ! 'twas sportive as ever took 

wing 
From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in 

spring ; 
Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate sages. 
Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages. ^^4 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAUL 223 

While her laugh, full of life, without any control 
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her 

soul ; 
And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, 
In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over, — 
Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon. 
When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. 
Such, such were the peerless enchantments that gave 
NouRMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her 

slave : 
And though bright was his Haram, — a living par- 
terre 
Of the flowers ^-^ of this planet — though treasures 

were there, 
For which Soliman's self might have giv'n all the 

store 
That the navy from Ophir e'er wing'd to his shore, 
Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all. 
And the Light of his Haram was young Nourmahal! 

But where is she now, this night of joy, 
When bliss is every heart's employ? — 

When all around her is so bright. 
So like the visions of a trance, 
That one might think, who came by chance 

Into the Vale this happy night. 

He saw that City of Delight ^^s 
In Fairy-land whose streets and towers 
Are made of gems and light and flowers ! — 
Where is the lov'd Sultana? where. 
When mirth brings out the young and fair, 
• Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, 
In melancholy stillness now ? 



224 LALLA ROOKH. 

Alas ! — how light a cause may move 

Dissension between hearts that love ! 

Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 

And sorrow but more closely tied ; 

That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 

Yet in a sunny hour fall off. 

Like ships that have gone down at sea, 

When heaven was all tranquillity ! 

A something, light as air — a look, 

A word unkind or wrongly taken — 
Oh ! love, that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin ; 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship's smiling day ; 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said ; 
Till fast declining, one by one. 
The sweetnesses of love are gone, 
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, — or like the stream, 
That smiling left the mountain's brow 

As though its waters ne'er could sever. 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below, 

Breaks into floods, that part forever. 
Oh, you, that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
As in the Fields of Bliss above 

He sits, with flow'rets fetter'd round ; ^-^ 
Loose not a tie that round him clings, 
Nor ever let him use his wings ; 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 225 

For e'en an hour, a minute's flight 
Will rob the plumes of half their light : 
Like that celestial bird, — whose nest 

Is found beneath far Eastern skies, — 
Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, 

Lose all their glory when he flies ! ^^^ 
Some difference, of this dangerous kind, — 
By which, though light, the links that bind 
The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; 
Some shadow in Love's summer heaven, 
Which, though a fleecy speck at first, 
May yet in awful thunder burst ; — 
Such cloud it is that now hangs over 
The heart of the Imperial Lover, 
And far hath banish'd from his sight • 
His NouRMAHAL, his Haram's Light ! 
Hence is it, on this happy night, 
When Pleasure through the fields and groves 
Has let loose all her world of loves. 
And every heart has found its own. 
He wanders, joyless and alone. 
And weary as that bird of Thrace 
Whose pinion knows no resting-place. ^^^ 
In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes 
This Eden of the Earth supplies 

Come crowding round — the cheeks are pale, 
The eyes are dim : — though rich the spot 
With every flow'r this earth has got, 

What is it to the nightingale, 
If there his darling rose is not ? ^^^ 
In vain the Valley's smiling throng 
Worship him, as he moves along ; 



226 LALLA ROOKH, 

He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
Is worth a world of worshippers. 
They but the Star's adorers are, 
She is the Heav'n that lights the Star ! 

Hence is it, too, that Nourmahal, 

Amid the luxuries of this hour, 
Far from the joyous festival, 

Sits in her own sequestered bower. 
With no one near, to soothe or aid, 
But that inspired and wondrous maid, 
Namouna, the Enchantress ; — one. 
O'er whom his race the golden sun 
For unremember'd years has run, 
Yet never saw her blooming brow 
Younger or fairer than 'tis now. 
Nay, rather, — as the west wind's sigh 
Freshens the flower it passes by, — 
Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er. 
To leave her lovelier than before. 
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung. 
And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
Of other worlds, there came a light 
From her dark eyes so strangely bright. 
That all believ'd nor man nor earth 
Were conscious of Namouna's birth ! 
All spells and talismans she knew. 

From the great Mantra,^^! which around 
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew, 

To the gold gems 332 of Afric, bound 
Upon the wandering Arab's arm. 
To keep him from the Siltim's^ss harm. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM, 227 

And she had pledg'd her powerful art, — 
Pledged it with all the zeal and heart 
Of one who knew, though high her sphere, 
What 'twas to lose a love so dear, — 
To find some spell that should recall 
Her Selim's ^3^ smile to Nourmahal ! 

'Twas midnight — through the lattice, wreath'd 

With woodbine, many a perfume breath'd 

From plants that wake when others sleep, 

From timid jasmine buds, that keep 

Their odor to themselves all day, 

But, when the sun-light dies away. 

Let the delicious secret out 

To every breeze that roams about ; — 

When thus Namouna : — " 'Tis the hour 

That scatters spells on herjp and flower. 

And garlands might be gathered now. 

That, twin'd around the sleeper's brow. 

Would make him dream of such delights, 

Such miracles and dazzling sights, 

As Genii of the Sun behold, 

At evening, from their tents of gold, 

Upon the horizon — where they play 

Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 

Their sunny mansions melt away. 

Now, too, a chaplet might be wreath'd 

Of buds o'er which the moon has breath'd. 

Which worn by her, whose love has stray'd, 

Might bring some Peri from the skies. 
Some sprite, whose very soul is made 

Of flow'rets' breaths and lovers' sighs, 
And who might tell " 



228 LALLA ROOKH. 

" For me, for me," 
Cried Nourmahal impatiently, — 
" Oh ! twine that wreath for me to-night." 
Then, rapidly, with foot as light 
As the young musk-roe's, out she flew, 
To cull each shining leaf that grew 
Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams, 
For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. 
Anemones and Seas of Gold,^^^ 

And new-blown lilies of the river. 
And those sweet flow'rets that unfold 

Their buds on Camadeva's quiver ; ^^e 
The tuberose, with her silvery light. 

That in the Gardens of Malay 
Is caird the Mistress of the Night, ^^' 
So like a bride, scented and bright, 

She comes out when the sun's away ; — 
Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
That wander through Zamara's shades ; ^^^ — 
And the white moon-flower, as it shows. 
On Serendib's high crags, to those 
Who near the isle at evening sail, 
Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; 
In short, all flowVets and all plants, 

From the divine Amrita tree,^^^ 
That blesses heaven's inhabitants 

With fruits of immortality, 
Down to the basil tuft,^^° that waves 
Its fragrant blossom over graves, 

And to the humble rosemary, 
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
To scent the desert ^"^^ and the dead : — 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 229 

All in that garden bloom, and all 
Are gathered by young Nourmahal, 
Who heaps her baskets with the flowers 

And leaves, till they can hold no more ; 
Then to Namouna flies, and showers 

Upon her lap the shining store. 

With what delight the Enchantress views 

So many buds, bath'd with the dews 

And beams of that bless'd hour ! — her glance 

Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, 
As, in a kind of holy trance. 

She hung above those fragrant treasures, 
Bending to drink their balmy airs. 
As if she mix'd her soul with theirs. 
And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
From flow'rs and scented flame, that fed 
Her charmed life — for none had e'er 
Beheld her taste of mortal fare. 
Nor ever in aught earthly dip. 
But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. 
Fiird with the cool, inspiring smell, 
The Enchantress now begins her spell, 
Thus singing as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves : — 



I know where the wing'd visions dwell 
That around the night-bed play ; 

I know each herb and flow'ret's bell, 
Where they hide their wings by day. 



230 LALLA ROOKH. 

Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid. 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The image of love, that nightly flies 

To visit the bashful maid. 
Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs 

Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
The dream of a future, happier hour, 

That alights on misery's brow. 
Springs out of the silvery almond-flower, 

That blooms on a leafless bough. ^^^ 
Then hasten we, maid. 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 

The glitter of mines unfold. 
Inhabit the mountain-herb, ^■'^ that dyes 

The tooth of the fawn hke gold. 
The phantom shapes — oh touch not them ! - 

That appal the murderer's sight. 
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem, 

That shrieks, when pluck'd at night ! 
Then hasten we, maid. 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The dream of the injur'd, patient mind, 
That smiles at the wrongs of men, 

Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind 
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. 



1 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 231 

Then hasten we, maid 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 



No sooner was the flowery crown 

Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down, 

Gently as nights of summer fall, 

Upon the lids of Nourmahal ; — 

And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, 

As full of small, rich harmonies 

As ever wind, that o'er the tents 

Of AzAB 3** blew, was full of scents, 

Steals on her ear, and floats and swells, 

Like the first air of morning creeping 
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells, 

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping ; ^' 
And now a Spirit formed, 'twould seem. 

Of music and of light, — so fair, 
So brilliantly his features beam, 

And such a sound is in the air 
Of sweetness when he waves his wings, — 
Hovers around her, and thus sings : — 

From Chindara's ^^^ warbling fount I come, 

Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell ; 
From Chindara's fount, my fairy home. 

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell : 
Where lutes in the air are heard about. 

And voices are singing the whole day long. 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 

Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song ! 



232 LALLA ROOKH. 

Hither I come 

From my fairy home ; 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 

I swear by the breath 

Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 

For mine is the lay that lightly floats, 
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 
That fall as soft as snow on the sea. 
And melt in the heart as instantly : — 
And the passionate strain that, deeply going, 

Refines the bosom it trembles through, 
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, 

Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. 



Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 

The Spirits of past Delight obey ; 

Let but the tuneful talisman sound, 

And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 

And mine is the gentle song that bears 

From soul to soul, the wishes of love, 
As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 

The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove. ^^^ 

'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 

The past, the present, and future of pleasure ; 

When Memory links the tone that is gone 

With the blissful tone that's still in the ear ; 
And Hope from a heavenly note flies on 

To a note more heavenly still that is near. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 233 

The warrior's heart, when touched by me, 

Can as downy soft and as yielding be 

As his own white plume, that high amid death 

Through the field has shone — yet moves with a 

breath ! 
And oh ! how the eyes of Beauty glisten. 

When Music has reached her inward soul, 
Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
While Heaven's eternal melodies roll. 
So, hither I come 
From my fairy home ; 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 
I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 



'Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn, 
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn, ^^^ 
As if the morn had wak'd, and then 
Shut close her lids of light again. 
And NouRMAHAL is up and trying 

The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
Oh, bliss ! — now murmur like the sighing 

From that ambrosial Spirit's wings. 
And then, her voice — 'tis more than human — 

Never, till now, had it been given 
To lips of any mortal woman 

To utter notes so fresh from heaven ; 
Sweet as the breath of angel sighs. 

When angel sighs are most divine. — 



234 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Oh ! let it last till night/' she cries, 

" And he is more than ever mine."' 
And hourly she renews the lay, 

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
Should, ere the evening, fade away, — 

For things so heavenly have such fleetness ! 
But, far from fading, it but grows 
Richer, diviner as it flows ; 
Till rapt she dwells on every string, 

And pours again each sound along. 
Like echo, lost and languishing, 

In love with her own wondrous song. 

That evening, (trusting that his soul 

Might be from haunting love released 
By mirth, by music, and the bowl,) . 

The Imperial Selim held a feast 
In his magnificent Shalimar : ^so _ 
In whose Saloons, when the first star 
Of evening o'er the waters trembled. 
The Valley's loveliest all assembled ; 
All the bright creatures that, like dreams, 
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
Of beauty from its founts and streams ; ^si 
And all those wandering minstrel-maids, 
Who leave — how cari they leave ? — the shades 
Of that dear Valley, and are found 

Singing in Gardens of the South ^^^ 
Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound 

As from a young Cashmerian's mouth. 
There, too, the Haram's inmates smile ; — 

Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 235 

And from the Garden of the Nile, 

DeUcate as the roses there ; ^^^ — 
Daughters of Love from Cyprus' rocks, 
With Paphian diamonds in their locks ; ^^ — 
Light Peri forms, such as there are 
On the gold meads of Candahar ; ^^^ 
And they, before whose sleepy eyes. 

In their own bright Kathaian bowers, 
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies. 

That they might fancy the rich flowers, 
That round them in the sun lay sighing. 
Had been by magic all set flying. ^s*^ 

Everything young, everything fair 
From East and West is blushing there, 
Except — except — oh, Nourmahal ! 
Thou loveliest, dearest of them all. 
The one whose smile shone out alone, 
Amidst a world the only one ; 
Whose light, among so many lights. 
Was like that star on starry nights. 
The seaman singles from the sky. 
To steer his bark forever by ! 
Thou wert not there — so Selim thought, 

And everything seem'd drear without thee ; 
But ah ! thou wert, thou wert, — and brought 

Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
MingHng unnoticed with a band 
Of lutanists from many a land, 
And veil'd by such a mask as shades 
The features of young Arab maids, ^^^ — 
A mask that leaves but one eye free, 
To do its best in witchery, — 



236 LALLA ROOKH. 

She rov'd, with beating heart, around, 
And waited, trembling, for the minute. 

When she might try if still the sound 
Of her Ipv'd lute had magic in it. 

The board was spread with fruits and wine ; 
With grapes of gold, like those that shine 
On Casein's hills ; ^^ — pomegranates full 

Of melting sweetness, and the pears. 
And sunniest apples ^^^ that Caubul 

In all its thousand gardens '^"^^ bears ; — 
Plantains, the golden and the green, 
Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen ; ^^^ 
Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts 

From the far groves of Samarcand, 
And Basra dates and apricots. 

Seed of the Sun,^^^ from Iran's land ; - 
With rich conserve of Visna cherries, ^^^^ 
Of orange flowers, and of those berries 
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. ^^ 
All these in richest vases smile. 

In baskets of pure santal-wood. 
And urns of porcelain from that isle ^^^ 

Sunk underneath the Indian flood, 
Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
Vases to grace the halls of kings. 
Wines, too, of every clime and hue. 
Around their liquid lustre threw ; 
Amber Rosolli,^^^ — the bright dew 
From vine3'ards of the Green-Sea gushing ; ' 
And Shiraz wine, that richly ran 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 237 

As if that jewel, large and rare, 
The ruby for which Kublai-Khan 
Offered a city's wealth, ^^ was blushing 

Melted within the goblets there ! 

And amply Selim quaffs of each. 

And seems resolv'd the flood shall reach 

His inward heart, — shedding around 

A genial deluge, as they run, 
That soon shall leave no spot undrown'd. 

For Love to rest his wings upon. 
He little knew how well the boy 

Can float upon a goblefs streams. 
Lighting them with his smile of joy ; -^ 

As bards have seen him in their dreams, 
Down the blue Ganges laughing glide 

Upon a rosy lotus wreath, ^'^^ 
Catching new lustre from the tide 

That with his image shone beneath. 

But what are cups, without the aid 

Of song to speed them as they flow? 
And see — a lovely Georgian maid. 

With all the bloom, the freshened glow 
Of her own country maidens' looks, 
When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks ; ^^'^ 
And with an eye, whose restless ray. 

Full, floating, dark — oh, he, who knows 
His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray 

To guard him from such eyes as those ! — 
With a voluptuous wildness flings 
Her snowy hand across the strings 
Of a syrinda,^^^ and thus sings : — 



238 LALLA ROOKH. 



Come hither, come hither — by night and by day, 

We Hnger in pleasures that never are gone ; 
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away. 

Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 
And the love that is o'er, in expiring, gives birth 
To a new one as warm, as unequalPd in bliss ; 
And, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this.^^^ 

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh 

As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee ; ^'^ 
And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,^^* 

Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 
Oh ! think what the kiss and the smile must be 
worth 
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss. 
And own if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is this, it is this. 



Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallow'd by love, 
Could draw down those angels of old from their 
sphere, 
Who for wine of this earth "'^ left the fountains above. 
And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we have here. 
And, bless'd with the odor our goblet gives forth. 

What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ? 
For, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is this, it is this. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 239 

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute, 

When the same measure, sound for sound, 
Was caught up by another lute. 

And so divinely breathed around, 
That all stood hush'd and wondering, 

And turned and looked into the air, 
As if they thought to see the wang 

Of ISRAFIL,376 the Angel, there ; 
So powerfully on every soul 
That new, enchanted measure stole. 
While now a voice, sweet as the note 
Of the charmed lute, was heard to float 
Along its chords, and so entwine 

Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whether 
The voice or lute was most divine. 

So wondrously they went together : — 



There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told. 
When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, 

With heart never changing, and brow never cold. 
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die ! 

One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss ; 

And, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 



'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words. 
But that deep magic in the chords 
And in the lips, that gave such power 
As Music knew not till that hour. 



240 LALLA ROOKH. 

At once a hundred voices said, 
" It is the masked Arabian maid ! " 
While Selim, who had felt the strain 
Deepest of any, and had lain 
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance, 

After the fairy sounds were o'er. 
Too inly touched for utterance, 

Now motioned with his hand for more 



Fly to the desert, fly wdth me. 

Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; 

But, oh ! the choice what heart can doubt. 

Of tents with love, or thrones without? 

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair. 
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
The silvery-footed antelope 
As gracefully and gayly springs 
As o'er the marble courts of kings. 

Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
The lov'd and lone acacia-tree. 
The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 

Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart, — 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 241 

As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through hfe 

As if the very lips and eyes, 
Predestin'd to have all our sighs, 
And never be forgot again, 
Sparkled and spoke before us then ! 

So came thy every glance and tone, 
When first on me they breathed and shone ; 
New, as if brought from other spheres, 
Yet welcome as if loved for years. 

Then fly with me, — if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 
Fresh as the fountain under ground, 
When first 'tis by the lapwing found. ^'^'^ 

But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipped image from its base, 
To give to me the ruinM place ; — 

Then, fare thee well — Pd rather make 
My bower upon some icy lake 
When thawing suns begin to shine, 
Than trust to love so false as thine ! 



242 LALLA ROOKH. 

There was a pathos in this lay, 

That, e''en without enchantment^s art, 
Would instantly have found its way 

Deep into Selim's burning heart ; 
But, breathing, as it did, a tone 
Xo earthly lutes and lips unknown, 
With every chord fresh from the touch 
Of Music's Spirit, — 'twas too much ! 
Starting, he dash'd away the cup, — 

Which, all the time of this sweet air. 
His hand had held, untasted, up, 

As if 'twere fix'd by magic there, — 
And naming her, so long unnam'd, 
So long unseen, wildly exclaim'd, 

" O NOURMAHAL ! O NOURMAHAL ! 

Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, 
I could forget — forgive thee all. 

And never leave those eyes again." 
The mask is off — the charm is wrought — 
And Selim to his heart has caught, 
In blushes, more than ever bright. 
His NOURMAHAL, his Haram's Light ! 
And well do vanish' d frowns enhance 
The charm of every brighten'd glance ; 
And dearer seems each dawning smile 
For having lost its light awhile : 
And, happier now for all her sighs, 

As on his arm her head reposes. 
She whispers him with laughing eyes, 

*' Remember, love, the Feast of Roses !" 



LALLA ROOKH. 243 

Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this Hght rhap- 
sody, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the 
young Cashmerian's poetry, — of which, he trusted, 
they had that evening heard the last. Having reca- 
pitulated the epithets " frivolous " — " inharmonious "' 
— " nonsensical," he proceeded to say that, viewing 
it in the most favorable light, it resembled one of 
those Maldivian boats to which the Princess had 
alluded in the relation of her dream, ^'^^ — a slight, 
gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, 
and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers 
on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and 
birds which this poet had" ready on all occasions, — 
not to mention dews, gems, etc., — was a most 
oppressive kind of opulence to his hearers ; and had 
the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter 
of the flower-garden without its method, and all the 
flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to 
this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always 
most inspired by the worst parts of them. The 
charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion, — these 
were the themes honored with his particular enthu- 
siasm ; and, in the poem just recited, one of his 
most palatable passages was in praise of that bever- 
age of the Unfaithful, wine; — "being perhaps," 
said he, relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his 
own character in the Haram on this point, "one of 
those bards whose fancy owes all its illumination to 
the grape, like that painted porcelain, ^"^ so curious 
and so rare, whose images are only visible when 
liquor is poured into it." Upon the whole, it was 
his opinion, from the specimens which they had 



244 LALLA ROOKH. 

heard, and which, he begged to say, were the most 
tiresome part of the journey, that — whatever other 
merits this well-dressed young gentleman might pos- 
sess — poetry was by no means his proper avocation: 
"and indeed," continued the critic, " from his fond- 
ness for flowers and for birds, I would venture to 
suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much 
more suitable calling for him than a poet." 

They had now begun to ascend those barren moun- 
tains which separate Cashmere from the rest of India ; 
and as the heats were intolerable, and the time of 
their encampments limited to the few hours neces- 
sary for refreshment and repose, there was an end 
to all their delightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh 
saw no more of Feramorz. She now felt that her 
short dream of happiness was over, and that she had 
nothing but the recollection of its few blissful hours, 
like the one draught of sweet water that serves the 
camel across the wilderness, to be her hearfs refresh- 
ment during the dreary waste of life that was before 
her. The blight that had fallen upon her spirits 
soon found its way to her cheek, and her ladies saw 
with regret — though not without some suspicion of 
the cause — that the beauty of their mistress, of 
which they were almost as proud of as their own, 
was fast vanishing away at the very moment of all 
when she had most need of it. What must the 
King of Bucharia feel, when, instead of the lively 
and beautiful Lalla Rookh, whom the poets of 
Delhi had described as more perfect than the divin- 
est images in the house of AzoR,38o he should re- 
ceive a pale and inanimate victim, upon whose cheek 



LALLA ROOKH. 245 

neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose 
eyes Love had fled, — to hide himself in her heart? 

If anything could have charmed away the melan- 
choly of her spirits, it would have been the fresh 
airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley which the 
Persians so justly called the Unequalled. ^^^ But 
neither the coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious 
after toiling up those bare and burning mountains, — 
neither the splendor of the minarets and pagodas 
that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the 
grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains ^^2 
which make every spot of that region holy ground, 
— neither the countless waterfalls that rush into the 
Valley, from all those high and romantic mountains 
that encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, whose 
houses, roofed with flowers, ^^^ appeared at a distance 
like one vast and variegated parterre ; — not all these 
wonders and glories of the most lovely country 
under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from 
those sad thoughts, which but darkened and grew 
bitterer every step she advanced. 

The gay pomps and processions that met her upon 
her entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence 
with which the roads all along were decorated, did 
honor to the taste and gallantry of the young King. 
It was night when they approached the city, and, for 
the last two miles, they had passed under arches, 
thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with only 
those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more 
precious than gold, is distilled, and illuminated in 
rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the triple- 
colored tortoise-shell of Pegu. 384 Sometimes, from 



246 LALLA KOOKH. 

a dark wood by the side of the road, a display of 
fireworks would break out, so sudden and so bril- 
liant, that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that 
grove in whose purple shade the God of Battles was 
born, bursting into a flame at the moment of his 
birth ; — while, at other times, a quick and playful 
irradiation continued to brighten all the fields and 
gardens by which they passed, forming a line of dan- 
cing lights along the horizon ; like the meteors of 
the north, as they are seen by those hunters ^^^ who 
pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of 
the Icy Sea. 

These arches and fireworks delighted the Ladies 
of the Princess exceedingly ; and with their usual 
good logic, they deduced from his taste for illumina- 
tions, that the King of Bucharia would make the 
most exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, 
could Lalla Rookh herself help feeling the kind- 
ness and splendor with which the young bridegroom 
welcomed her ; but she also felt how painful is the 
gratitude which kindness from those we cannot love 
excites ; and that their best blandishments come over 
the heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness 
which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind "^^ 
that is to blow over this earth in the last days. 

The marriage was fixed for the morning after her 
arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be pre- 
sented to the monarch in that Imperial Palace 
beyond the lake called the Shalimar. Though never 
before had a night of more wakeful and anxious 
thought been passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when 
she rose in the morning:, and her Ladies came around 



LALLA ROOKH. 247 

her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal orna- 
ments, they thought they had never seen her look 
half so beautiful. What she had lost of the bloom 
and radiancy of her charms was more than made up 
by that intellectual expression, that soul beaming 
forth from the eyes, which is worth all the rest of 
loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers with 
the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small 
coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the ancient 
Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her head the 
rose-colored bridal veil, and she proceeded to the 
barge that was to convey her across the Lake ; — 
first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet 
of cornelian which her father at parting had hung 
about her neck. 

The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid on 
whose nuptials it rose, and the shining Lake, all 
covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the 
shores of the islands, and the crowded summer- 
houses on the green hills around, with shawls and 
banners waving from their roofs, presented such a 
picture of animated rejoicing, as only she, who was 
the object of it all, did not feel with transport. To 
Lalla Rookh alone it was a melancholy pageant ; 
nor could she have even borne to look upon the 
scene, were it not for a hope that, among the crowds 
around, she might once more perhaps catch a glimpse 
of Feramorz. So much was her imagination haunted 
by this thought, that there was scarcely an islet or 
boat she passed on the way, at which her heart did 
not flutter with the momentary fancy that he was 
there. Happy, in her eyes, the humblest slave upon 



248 LALLA ROOKH. 

whom the light of his dear looks fell ! — in the barge 
immediately after the Princess sat Fadladeen, with 
his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all might 
have the benefit of his august presence, and with 
his head full of the speech he was to deliver to the 
King, "concerning Feramorz, and literature, and 
the Chabuk, as connected therewith." 

They now had entered the canal which leads from 
the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the 
Shalimar, and went gliding on through the gardens 
that ascended from each bank, full of flowering 
shrubs that made the air all perfume ; while from 
the middle of the canal rose jets of water, smooth 
and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that they 
stood like tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. 
After sailing under the arches of various saloons, 
they at length arrived at the last and most magnifi- 
cent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his 
bride ; and such was the agitation of her heart and 
frame that it was with difficulty she could walk up 
the marble steps, which were covered with cloth of 
gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of 
the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Ceru- 
lean Throne of Coolburga,^^"^ on one of which sat 
Aliris, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on the 
other was, in a few minutes, to be placed the most 
beautiful Princess in the world. Immediately upon 
the entrance of Lalla Rookh into the saloon, the 
monarch descended from his throne to meet her ; 
but scarcely had he time to take her hand in his, 
when she screamed with surprise, and fainted at his 
feet. It was Feramorz himself that stood before 



LALLA ROOKH. 249 

her ! Feramorz was, himself, the Sovereign of 
Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his 
young bride from Delhi, and, having won her love as 
an humble minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it 
as a King. 

The consternation of Fadladeen at this discov- 
ery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But 
change of opinion is a resource too convenient in 
courts for this experienced courtier not to have 
learned to avail himself of it. His criticisms were 
all, of course, recanted instantly : he was seized with 
an admiration of the King's verses, as unbounded as, 
he begged him to believe, it was disinterested ; and 
the following week saw him in possession of an 
additional place, swearing by all the Saints of Islam 
that never had there existed so great a poet as the 
Monarch Aliris, and, moreover, ready to prescribe 
his favorite regimen of the Chabuk for every man, 
woman, :and child that dared to think otherwise. 

Of the happiness of the King and Queen of 
Bucharia, after such a beginning, there can be but 
little doubt ; and, among the lesser symptoms, it is 
recorded of Lalla Rookh, that, to the day of her 
death, in memory of their delightful journey, she 
never called the King by any other name than 
Feramorz. 



NOTES. 



Note i, p. 23. — He embarked for Arabia. — These 
particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Aurung- 
zebe are found in Dow's History of Hindosian, vol. iii. 
p. 392. 

Note 2, p. 23 . — Lalla Rookh. — Tulip cheek. 

Note 3, p. 23. — Leila. — The mistress of Mejnoun, 
upon whose story so many romances in all the languages 
of the East are founded. 

Note 4, p. 23. — Shirine. — For the loves of this cele- 
brated beauty with Khosrou and with Ferhad, see D'Her- 
belot, Gibbon, Oriental Collections^ etc. 

Note 5, p. 23. — Dewilde. — "The history of the loves 
of Dewilde and Chizer, the son of the Emperor Alia, is 
written in an elegant poem, by the noble Chusero." — 
Ferishta. 

Note 6, p. 24. — Scattering of the Roses. — Gul Reazee. 

Note 7, p. 24. — E??tperor^s favor. — "One mark of 
honor or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the per- 
mission to wear a small kettledrum at the bows of their 
saddles, which at first was invented for the training of 
hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is worn in the 
field by all sportsmen to that end." — Fryer's Travels. 

251 



252 NOTES. 

"Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege 
must wear an ornament of jewels on the right side of the 
turban, surmounted by a high plume of the feathers of a 
kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cashmere, and 
the feathers are carefully collected for the King, who be- 
stows them on his nobles." — Elphinstone^s Account of 
Caiibid. 

Note 8, p. 24. — Keder Khan. — " Khedar Khan, the 
Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gihon (at the 
end of the eleventh century), whenever he appeared 
abroad, was preceded by seven hundred horsemen with 
silver battle-axes, and was followed by an equal number 
bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, 
and it was he who used to preside at public exercises of 
genius, with four basins of gold and silver by him to dis- 
tribute among the poets who excelled." — J^ichardson'' s 
Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary . 

Note 9, p. 24. — Gilt pine-apples. — " The kubdeh, a 
large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine-apple, 
on the top of the canopy over the litter or palanquin." — 
Scotfs Notes on the Bahardannsh. 

Note 10, p. 25. — Swnptnous litter. — In the Poem of 
Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following lively de- 
scription of " a company of maidens seated on camels." 

"They are mounted in carriages covered with costly 
awnings, and with rose-colored veils, the linings of which 
have the hue of crimson Andem-wood. 

"When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they 
sit forward on the saddle-cloth, with every mark of a vo- 
luptuous gayety. 

"Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue- 



NOTES. 253 

gushing rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the 
Arab with a settled mansion." 

Note II, p. 25, — Argus pheasanfs wing. — See Ber- 
nier's description of the attendants on Raucha-nara-Begum, 
in her progress to Cashmere. 

Note 12, p. 25. — Munificent protector. — This hypo- 
critical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of 
certain Holy Leagues. — " He held the cloak of religion," 
says Dow, "between his actions and the vulgar ; and im- 
piously thanked the Divinity for a success which he owed 
to his own wickedness. When he was murdering and per- 
secuting his brothers and their families, he was building 
a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an offering to God for 
his assistance to him in the civil wars. He acted as high 
priest at the consecration of this temple ; and made a prac- 
tice of attending divine service there, in the humble dress of 
a Fakeer. But when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, 
with the other, signed warrants for the assassination of his 
relations." — History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 335. See 
also the curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Orien- 
tal Collections, vol. i. p. 320. 

Note 13, p. 25. — The Idol of Jaghernaut. — "The 
idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes. No 
goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stolen 
one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the 
Idol." — ■ Tavernier. 

Note 14, p. 26. — Royal Gardens of Delhi. — See a 
description of these Royal Gardens in "An Account of 
the present State of Delhi," by Lieut. W. Franklin; Asiat, 
Research^ vol. iv. p. 417. 



254 NOTES. 

Note 15, p. 26. — Lake of Pearl. — "In the neighbor- 
hood is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pear}, which receives 
this name from its pellucid water. ' ' — Pemiant ' j Hindostan. 

" Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of 
Tonoor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and 
beautiful water, and gave it the fanciful name of Motee 
Talah, 'the Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains." — 
Wilks^s South of India. 

Note 16, p. 26. — Isles of Ike West. — Sir Thomas Roe, 
Ambassador from James L to Jehan-Guire. 

Note 17, p. 26. — Ezra. — "The romance Wemak- 
weazra, written in Persian verse, which contains the loves 
of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived be- 
fore the time of Mahomet." — Note oti the Oriental Tales. 

Note 18, p. 26. — Rodahver. — Their amour is recounted 
in the Shah-Nameh of Ferdousi; and there is much beauty 
in the passage which describes the slaves of Rodahver 
sitting on the bank of the river, and throwing flowers into 
the stream, in order to draw the attention of the young 
Hero who is encamped on the opposite side. (See Cham- 
pion's translation.) 

Note 19, p. 26. — White Demon. — Rustam is the 
Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars of his victory 
over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see Oriental 
Collections, vol. ii. p. 45. — "Near the city of Shirauz is 
an immense quadrangular monument, in commemoration 
of this combat, called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or castle 
of the White Giant, which Father Angelo, in his Gazo- 
philaciu77i Persicum, p. 127, declares to have been the 
most memorable monument of antiquity which he had 
seen in Persia." (See Ouseley's Persian Miscellanies.^ 



NOTES. 255 

Note 20, p. 27. — Golden anklets. — "The women of 
the Idol, or dancing girls of the Pagoda, have little golden 
bells fastened to their feet, the soft harmonious tinkling of 
which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of their 
voices." — Maurice's Indian Antiquities. 

"The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have 
little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, and 
elbows, to the sound of which they dance before the King. 
The Arabian princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, 
to which little bells are suspended, as well as in the flowing 
tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may be known, 
and they themselves receive in passing the homage due 
to them." (See Calmet's Dictionary^ art. Bells.) 

Note 21, p. 27. — Delicious opium. — " Abou-Tige, 
ville de la Thebaide, ou il croit beaucoup de pavot noir, 
dont se fait le meilleur opium." — D'' Herbelot. 

Note 22, p. 28. — Crishna. — The Indian Apollo. — 
"He and -the three Ramas are described as youths of 
perfect beauty; and the princesses of Hindustan were all 
passionately in love with Chrishna, who continues to this 
hour the darling God of the Indian women." — Sir W. 
Jones, on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. 

Note 23, p. 28. — Shawl-goats of Tibet. — See Turner's 
Embassy for a description of this animal, " the most beau- 
tiful among the whole tribe of goats." The material for 
the shawls (which is carried to Cashmere) is found next 
the skin. 

Note 24, p. 28. — Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. — For 
the real history of this Impostor, whose original name was 
Hakem ben Haschcm, and who was called Mokanna from 



256 NOTES. 

the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, golden) which 
he always wore, see D'Herbelot. 

Note 25, p. 29. — Khorassan. — Khorassan signifies, in 
the old Persian language. Province or Region of the Sun. 
— Sir W. Jones. 

Note 26, p. 29. — Flowerets and fruits blush over every 
stream. 

"The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other 
place; and one cannot see in any other city such palaces 
with groves, and streams, and gardens." — Ebn HaukaVs 
Geography. 

Note 27, p. 29. — Among Merou's bright palaces and 
groves. 

One of the royal cities of Khorassan. 

Note 28, p. 29. — MoussA's. — Moses. 

Note 29, p. 29. — OVr Moussa's cheek, when dowti the 
Moitnt he trod. 

"Ses disciples assuroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, 
pour ne pas eblouir ceux qui I'approchoient par I'eclat de 
son visage comme Moyse." — D' Herbelot. 

Note 30, p. 30. — In hatred to the Caliph'' s hue of night. 

Black was the color adopted by the Caliphs of the House 
of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards. — "II 
faut remarquer ici touchant les habits blancs des disciples 
de Hakem, que la couleur des habits, des coiffures et des 
etendards des Khalifes Abassides etant la noire, ce chef 
de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir une qui lui fut plus 
opposee. ' ' — D ^Herbelot. 



NOTES. 257 

Note 31, p. 30. — With javelins of the light Kathaian 
reed. 

"Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Kiiathaian 
reeds, slender and delicate." — Poem of Amru. 

Note 32, p. 30. — Fiirdwith the stems. 

Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 

Note 33, p. 30. — That bloo?7i on Iran's rivers. 
The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft 
of Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was made of it. 

— "Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of 
this plant in flower during the rains on the banks of rivers, 
where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining ascle- 
pias." — Sir W. Jones, Botanical Observations on Select 
Indian Plants. 

Note 34, p. 30. — Like a chenar-tree grove, 7vhen winter 
throws. 

The Oriental plane. "The chenar is a delightful tree; 
its bole is of a fine white and smooth bark; and its foliage, 
which grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a bright green." 

— Morier 's Travels. 

Note 35, p. 31. — From those who kneel at Brahma's 
burning founts . 

The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittagong, es- 
teemed as holy. — Turner. 

Note 36, p. 31. — To the small, half-shut glances of 
Kathay. — China. 

Note 37, p. 31. — Like tulip-beds, of different shape and 
dyes. 



258 NOTES. 

"The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, 
and given to the flower on account of its resembling a 
turban." — Beckmann^s History of Iftventions. 

Note 38, p. 31. — And fur'-boiind bonnet of Btuhai'ian 
shape. 

"The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bon- 
net, shaped much after the Polish fashion, having a large 
fur border. They tie their kaftans about the middle with 
a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round the 
body." — Account of Independent Tartary, in Finkerton^s 
Collection. 

Note 39. p. 32. — ' erwhehn'' d in fight and captive to the 
Greek. 

In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress 
Irene, for an account of which vide Gibbon, vol. x. 

Note 40, p. 33. — The flying throne of star-tatight SOL- 

IMAN. 

This wonderful throne was called The Star of the Genii. 
For a full description of it, see the Fragment, translated 
by Captain Franklin, from a Persian MS. entitled, "The 
History of Jerusalem," Oriental Collections^ vol. i. p. 235. 
— When Soliman travelled, the Eastern writers say, " He 
had a carpet of green silk on which his throne was placed, 
being of a prodigious length and breadth, and sufficient for 
all his forces to stand upon, the men placing themselves on 
his right hand, and the spirits on his left; and that when 
all were in order, the wind, at his command, took up the 
carpet, and transported it, with all that were upon it, 
wherever he pleased; the army of birds at the same time fly- 
ing over their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade 
them from the sun." — Sale'' s Koran ^ vol. ii. p. 214, note. 



NOTES. 259 

Note 41, p. 33. — For many an age, in every chance 
and change. 

The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. 
(FzV^D'Herbelot.) 

Note 42, p. 33. — To which all Heaven, except the Proud 
One, knelt. 

"And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, 
they all worshipped except Eblis (Lucifer), who refused." 
— The Korati, chap. ii. 

Note 43, p. 34. — In Mo\jssa' s fraine, — and, thence de- 
scending, Jlow''d. — Moses. 

Note 44, p. 34. — Through many a Prophets breast. 

This is according to D'Herbelot's account of the doc- 
trines of Mokanna: — " Sa doctrine etoit, que Dieu avoit 
pris une forme et figure humaine, depuis qu'il eut com- 
mande aux Anges d'adorer Adam, le premier des hommes. 
Qu'apres la mort d'Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous la 
figure de plusieurs Prophetes, et autres grands hommes 
qu'il avoit choisis, jusqu'a ce qu'il prit celle d'Abu Mos- 
lem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit I'erreur de la 
Tenassukhiah ou Metempsychose; et qu'apres la mort de 
ce Prince, la Divinite etoit passee et descendue en sa 
personne." 

Note 45, p. 34. — In IssA shone. — Jesus. 

Note 46, p. 37. — Born by that ancient flood, which 
from its spring. 

The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Moun- 
tains, and, running nearly from east to west, splits into 
two branches; one of which falls into the Caspian Sea, 
and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles. 



2 6o NOTES. 

Note 47, p. 38. — The bulbul utters^ ere her soul 
depart. — The nightingale. 

Note 48, p. 45. — In holy KooM, or Mecca's dim 
arcades. 

The Cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of 
mosques, mausoleums, and sepulchres of the descendants 
of Ali, the Saints of Persia. — Char din. 

Note 49, p. 46. — Stood vases, fiW d with KiSHMEE's 
golden wine. 

An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white 



Note 50, p. 46. — Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness, 
had power. 

The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, from 
the murmuring of its waters. 

Note 51, p. 46. — Whom India serves, the monkey 
deity. 

The God Hannaman. — "Apes are in many parts of 
India highly venerated, out of respect to the God Hanna- 
man, a deity partaking of the form of that race." — Pen- 
nanfs Hindosiaji. 

See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn 
embassy from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the 
Portuguese were there, offering vast treasures for the 
recovery of a monkey's tooth, which they held in great 
veneration, and which had been taken away upon the 
conquest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan. 

Note 52, p. 46. — To bend in worship, LuciFER was 
right. 

The resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new 



iVOTES. 261 

creature, man, was, according to Mahometan tradition, 
thus adopted: — "The earth (which God had selected for 
the materials of His work) was carried into Arabia to a 
place between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first 
kneaded by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by 
God himself into a human form, and left to dry for the 
space of forty days, or, as others say, as many years; the 
angels, in the meantime, often visiting it, and Eblis (then 
one of the angels nearest to God's presence, afterwards 
the devil) among the rest; but he, not contented with 
looking at it, kicked it with his foot till it rung; and 
knowing God designed that creature to be his superior, 
took a secret resolution never to acknowledge him as 
such." — Sale on (he Koran. 

Note 53, p. 47. — From dead men's marrow guides them 
best at night, 

A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the 
Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat 
of a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather a West- 
ern than an Eastern superstition. 

Note 54, p. 47. — In that best inarble of which Gods are 
made. 

The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman 
Deity) are made, is held sacred. " Birmans may not 
purchase the marble in mass, but are suffered, and indeed 
encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready made." — 
Symes^s Ava, vol. ii. p. 376. 

Note 55, p. 51. — Of Kerzrah flowers^ came fiW d with 
pestilence. 

" It is commonly said in Persia that if a man breathe in 
the hot south wind, which in June or July passes over that 
flower (the Kerzereh), it will kill him." — Thevenot, 



262 NOTES. 

Note 56, p. 53. — Within the c7'ocodile' s stretch'' d jaws to 
come. 

The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose 
of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circumstance 
is related of the lapwing, as a fact to 'which he was wit- 
ness, by Paul Lucas, Voyage fait en 1714. 

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming- 
bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the croco- 
dile, is firmly believed at Java. — Barrozv^s Cochin China. 

Note 57, p. 55. — That rank and venomous food on 
which she lives. 

" Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea 
serpentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam 
nidis suis refert." — Solinns. 

Note 58, p. 56. — Yamtcheou. — "The Feast of Lan- 
terns is celebrated at Yamtcheou with more magnificence 
than anywhere else : and the report goes that the illumi- 
nations there are so splendid that an Emperor once, not 
daring openly to leave his Court to go thither, committed 
himself with the Queen and several Princesses of his family 
into the hands of a magician, who promised to transport 
them thither in a trice. He made them in the night to 
ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up by swans, 
which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The Emperor 
saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a 
cloud that hovered over the city and descended by degrees; 
and came back again with the same speed and equipage, 
nobody at court perceiving his absence." — The Present 
State of China, p. 156. 

Note 59, p. 56. — Sceneries of bamboo-work. — See a 
description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the Asiatic 
Annual Register for 1804. 



NOTES. 263 

Note 60, p. 56. — Chinese illiuninations . — " The vul- 
gar ascribe it to an accident that happened in the family 
of a famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one 
evening upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was drownedf 
the afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and, the 
better to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns 
to be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged 
after him with torches. The year ensuing they made fires 
upon the shores the same day; they continued the cere- 
mony every year; every one lighted his lantern, and by 
degrees it grew into a cxx'iX.ovci.'''' —Present State of China. 

Note 61, p. 58. — Like Seba's Queen could vanquish 
with that one. 

"Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes." 
— Sol. Song. 

Note 62, p. 58. — The fingers' ends with a bright roseate 
hue. 

"They tinged the ends of their fingers scarlet with 
henna, so that they resembled branches of coral." — Story 
of Prince Futtun in Bahardamtsh. 

Note 63, p. 58. — To give that long, dark languish to the 
eye. 

" The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a 
powder named the black kohol." — Russel. 

"None of these ladies," says Shaw, "take themselves 
to be completely dressed, till they have tinged the hair and 
edges of their eyelids with the powder of lead ore. Now, 
as this operation is performed by dipping first into the 
powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a quill, 
and then drawing it afterwards through the eyelids over 
the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image of what 



264 NOTES. 

the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean by 
rending the eyes with painting. This practice is no doubt 
of great antiquity; for besides the instance already taken 
'notice of, we find that where Jezebel is said (2 Kings ix. 
30) to have painted her face, the original words are, she 
adjusted her eyes with the poivder of lead ore.^^ — Shawns 
Travels. 

Note 64, p. 58. — In her full lap the Champac''s leaves 
of gold. 

The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colored 
Champac on the black hair of the Indian women has sup- 
plied the Sanscrit poets with many elegant allusions. (See 
Asiatic Researches, vol. iv.) 

Note 65, p. 58. — The sweet Elcaya, and that courteous 
tree. 

A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills 
of Yemen. — Niebuhr. 

Note 66, p. 58. — Which bows to all who seek its canopy. 

Of the genus mimosa, "which droops its branches 
whenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted 
those who retire under its shade." — Ibid. 

Note 67, p. 59. — The bowers of Tibet, send forth 
odorous light. 

" Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of 
the perfumed rods, which men of rank keep constantly 
burning in their presence." — Turner^ s Tibet. 

Note 68, p. 60. — With odoriferous woods of COMORIN. 

" C'est d'ou vient le bois d'aloes que les Arabes appel- 
lent Oud Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s'y trouve en 
grande quantite. ' ' — D ^ Herbelot. 



NOTES. 265 

Note 69, p. 60. — The crimson blossoms of the coral tree. 
" Thousands of variegated lories visit the coral trees." — 
Barrow. 

Note 70, p. 60. — Mecca^ s blue sacred pigeon. 

*' In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which 
none will affright or abuse, much less kill." — Pitfs ac- 
count of the Alahometans. 

Note 71, p. 60. — The thrtish of Hindostan. 

" The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choris- 
ters of India. It sits perched on the sacred pagodas, and 
from thence delivers its melodious song." — Pennant'' s 

Hindostan. 

Note 72, p. 60. — About the gardens, drunk with that 
sweet food. 

Tavernier adds, that while the birds of Paradise lie in 
this intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their 
legs ; and that hence it is they are said to have no feet. 

Note 73', p. 60. — Whose scent hath lur^d them o^er the 
summer flood. 

Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come 
in flights from the southern isles to India; and "the 
strength of the nutmeg," says Tavernier, "so intoxicates 
them, that they fall dead drunk to the earth." 

Note 74, p. 60. — Build their high nests of budding cin- 
namon. 

"That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest 
with cinnamon." — Browne^ s Vulgar Errors. 

Note 75, p. 60. — Sleeping in light, like the green birds 
that dwell. 

"The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops 
of green birds." — Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421. 



266 NOTES. 

Note 76, p. 60. — More like the luxuries of that impious 
King. 

Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in 
imitation of Paradise, and was destroyed by lightning the 
first time he attempted to enter them. 

Note 77, p. 62. — /« its blue blossoms hum themselves to 
sleep. 

" My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the 
Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are 
supposed to sleep on its blossoms." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 78, p. 63. — As they were captives to the King of 
Flowers. 

" They deferred it till the King of Flowers should 
ascend his throne of enamelled foliage." — The Bahard- 
anush. 

Note 79, p. 64. — But a light golden chain-work round 
her hair. 

*' One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is com- 
posed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, 
with a thin gold plate pendant, about the bigness of a 
crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, 
and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear." — Han- 
way^ s Travels. 

Note 80, p. 64. — Such as the maids of Yezd and Shi- 
RAS zvear. 

"Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest 
women in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a 
man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, 
and drink the wine of Shiraz." — Tavernier. 

Note 81, p. 65. — Upon a musnud''s edge. 
Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for per- 
sons of distinction. 



NOTES. 267 

Note 82, p. 65. — lit the pathetic mode of Isfahan. 

The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical 
modes or Perdas by the names of different countries or 
cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, etc. 

Note 83, p. 65. — There^s a bower of roses by Bende- 
MEEr's stream. 

A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar. 

Note 84, p. 67. — ■ The hills of crystal on the Caspian 
shore. 

"To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near 
Badku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, 
arising from the sea-glass and crystals with which it 
abounds." — Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Per- 
sia, 1746. 

Note 85, p. 67. — Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze. 

"To which will be added the sound of bells, hanging 
on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind pro- 
ceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed 
wish for music." — Sale. 

Note 86, p. 68. — And his floating eyes — oh! they re- 
semble. 

" Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agi- 
tated by the breeze." — Jayadeva. 

Note 88, p. 68. — Blue ivater-lilies. 

The blue lotus, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia. 

Note 88, p. 69. — To i?iuse upon the pictures that hung 
round. 

It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans 
prohibit all pictures of animals; but Toderini shows that, 
though the practice is forbidden by the Koran, they are 



2 68 NOTES. 

not more averse to painted figures and images than other 
people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the 
Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of fig- 
ures into painting. 

Note 89, p. 69. — Whose orb when half retired looks 
loveliest. 

This is not quite astronomically true. "Dr. Hadley 
(says Keil) has shown that Venus is brightest when she is 
about forty degrees removed from the sun; and that then 
but only a fourth part of her lucid disk is to be seen from 
the earth." 

Note 90, p. 69. — He read that to be blest is to be wise. 

For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to 
preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the 
Queen of Sheba or Saba, see D'Herbelot, and the Notes 
on the Koraji, chap. ii. 

"In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built 
against the arrival of the Queen of Saba, the floor or pave- 
ment was of transparent glass, laid over running water, in 
which fish were swimming." This led the Queen into a 
very natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought 
beneath its dignity to commemorate. "It was said unto 
her, 'Enter the palace.' And when she saw it she im- 
agined it to be a great water; and she discovered her legs, 
by lifting up her robe to pass through it. Whereupon 
Solomon said to her, ' Verily, this is the place evenly 
floored with glass.' " — Chap, xxvii. 

Note 91, p. 69 — Here fond ZuLEiKA woos with open 
arms. 

The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. 
"The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity con- 



NOTES. 269 

ceived for her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a 
much-esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled 
Yusef van. Zelikha, by Noureddin Jami; the manuscript 
copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is sup- 
posed to be the finest in the whole world." — Note upon 
NoW sTratislatioti of Hafez. 

Note 92, p. 69. — With a 7iew text to consecrate their 
love. 

The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the 
Coptic girl, in justification of which he added a new chap- 
ter to the Koran, may be found in Gagnier's Azotes upon 
Abidfeda^ p. 151. 

Note 93, p. 71. — But in that deep-blue^ melancholy 
dress. 

*' Deep blue is their mourning color." — Hanway. 

Note 94, p. 72. — Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night- 
flower. 

The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its 
rich odor after sunset. 

Note 95, p. 73. — As the viper weaves its -wily covering. 

"Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent 
among the balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry; 
several were brought me alive both to Yambo and Jidda." 
— Bruce. 

Note 96, p. 79. — The sunny apples of Istkahar. — " In 
the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of 
which is sweet and half sour." — Ebn Haukal. 

Note 97, p. 79. — They sazv a young Hindoo girl tipon 
the bank. — For an account of this ceremony, see Grand- 
pre's Voyage in the Indian Ocean. 



270 NOTES. 

Note 98, p. 79. — The Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars. — • 
"The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, 
and where there are more than a hundred springs, which 
sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that is, 
the Sea of Stars." — Putkertoji's Description of Tibet. 

Note 99, p. 80. — Hath sprting tip here. 

"The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular 
town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising 
ground furnishes one of the most agreeable prospects in 
the world. Starting up in a few hours in an uninhabited 
plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. 
Even those who leave their houses in cities to follow the 
prince in his progress are frequently so charmed by the 
Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and convenient place, 
that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To 
prevent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, 
after sufficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, 
orders them to be burnt out of their tents." — Dow^s 
' Hindostan. 

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern en- 
campment : " His camp, like that of most Indian armies, 
exhibited a motley collection of covers from the scorching 
sun and dews of the night, variegated according to the 
taste or means of each individual, by extensive enclo- 
sures of colored calico surrounding superb suites of 
tents ; by ragged cloths or blankets stretched over sticks 
or branches ; palm-leaves hastily spread over similar sup- 
ports ; handsome tents and splendid canopies ; horses, 
oxen, elephants, and camels ; all intermixed without any 
exterior mark of order or design, except the flags of the 
chiefs, which usually mark the centres of a congeries of 
these masses ; the only regular part of the encampment 
being the streets of shops, each of which is constructed 



NOTES. 271 

nearly in the manner of a booth at an EngHsh fair." — 
Historical Sketches of the South of India. 

Note 100, p. 80. — Built the high pillar'' d halls ofQmi^- 

MINAR. 

The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to 
have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of 
Jan ben Jan, who governed the world long before the time 
of Adam. 

Note lOi, p. 81. — And camels, ttifted 0^ er tuith Yemen'' s 
shells. 

" A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of 
small shells." — AH Bey. 

Note 102, p. 81. — -But the far torrent, or the loctcst 
bird. 

A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means 
of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, 
called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it 
will follow 'wherever that water is carried. 

Note 103, p. 81. — Of laden camels and their drivers' 
songs. 

" Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and 
some about their legs, like those which our carriers put 
about their fore-horses' necks, which, together with the 
servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot), 
singing all night, make a pleasant noise, and the journey 
passes away delightfully." — Pitfs Account of the Jlla- 
Jiometans. 

"The camel-driver follows the camels, singing, and 
sometimes playing upon his pipe ; the louder he sings and 
pipes, the faster the camels go. Nay, they will stand still 
when he gives over his music." — Tavernier. 



272 NOTES. 

Note 104, p. 81. — Of the Abyssinian trumpet, swell 
and float. 

" This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser cannon 
which signifies the Note of the Eagle." — A^ote of Bruce'' s 
Editor. 

Note 105, p. 81. — 77^1? AHghtand Shadow, over yonder 
tent. 

The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the 
House of Abbas were called, allegorically, The Night and 
the Shadow. (See Gibbon.) 

Note 106, p. 81 . — Defiance fierce at Islam. — The Ma- 
hometan religion. 

Note 107, p. 81. — But, having szuorn upon the Holy 
Grave. 

"The Persians swear by the tomb of Shah Besade, who 
is buried at Casbin ; and when one desires another to as- 
severate a matter, he will ask him if he dare swear by the 
Holy Grave." — ^/rz/j. 

Note 108, p. 82. — Were spoil ''d to feed the Pilgrim'^ s 
luxury. 

Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six 
millions of dinars of gold. 

Note 109, p. 82. — (^Mecca's stin, with urns of Per- 
sian snow. 

" Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut 
raro visam." — Abulfeda. 

Note no, p. 82. — First, in the van, the People of the 
Rock. 

The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petrasa, called by 
an Eastern writer "The People of the Rock." (See Ebn 
Haukal.) 



NOTES. 273 

Note III, p. 82. — On t/ieij' light mountain steeds^ of 
royal stock. 

"Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of 
whom a written genealogy has been kept for 2,000 years. 
They are said to derive their origin from King Solomon's 
steeds. ' ' — Niebiihr. 

Note 112, p. 82. — The flashing of their swords'" rich 
marquetry. 

" Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are 
wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small 
gems." — Asiat. Misc. v. i. 

Note 113, p. 82. — IVith dusky legions from the land 
of Myrrh. 
Azab or Saba. 

Note 114, p. 83. — Waving their heron crests "cuith mar- 
tial grace. 

"The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white 
heron's feathers in their turbans." — Account of Inde- 
pendent Tartary. 

Note 115, p. 83. — Wild zvarriors of the turquoise hills. 
" In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khoras- 
san) they find turquoises." — Ebn Haukal. 

Note 116, p. 83. — (9/" Hindoo Kosh, in stormy f-ee- 
dom bred. 

For a description of these stupendous ranges of moun- 
tains, see Elphinstone's Caubul. 

Note 117, p. 83. — Her Worshippers of Fire. 

The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Per- 
sia who adhered to their ancient faith, the religion of 
Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest of their country by 



274 NOTES. 

the Arabs, were either persecuted at home, or forced to 
become wanderers abroad. 

Note ii8, p. 83. — From Yezd's Eternal Mansion of the 
Fire. 

" Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives who 
worship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they have 
carefully kept lighted, without being once extinguished 
for a moment, about 3,000 years, on a mountain near 
Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or Man- 
sion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who 
dies off that mountain." — Stephen'' s Persia. 

Note 119, p. 83. — That burn ijito the Casfi AT<!, ferce 
they came. 

" When the weather is hazy, the springs of naphtha (on 
an island near Baku) boil up the higher, and the naphtha 
often takes fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a 
flame into the sea to a distance almost incredible." — 
Hamvay on the Everlasting Fire at Baku. 

Note 120, p. 84. — By which the prostrate Caravan is 
aza'd. 

Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt 
from February to May, " Sometimes it appears only in 
the shape of an impetuous whirlwind, which passes rap- 
idly, and is fatal to the traveller surprised in the middle 
of the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll before it, 
the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun 
appears of the color of blood. Sometimes whole caravans 
are buried in it." 

Note 121, p. 84. — The Champions of the Faith through 
Beder's vale. 

In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Bed(^' he 



NOTES. 275 

was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand 
angels, led by Gabriel, mounted on his horse Hiazum. 
(See The Koran and its Commentators.^ 

Note 122, p. 86. — " Alia Akbar ! " 
The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. "Alia Acbar ! " 
says Ockley, means " God is most mighty." 

Note 123, p. 86. — And light your shrines and chant 
your ziraleets. 

The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of 
the East sing upon joyful occasions.; — Russel. 

Note 124, p. 86. — Or zvarm or brighten^ — like that 
Syrian Lake. 

The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vege- 
table life. 

Note 125, p. 88. — 0''er his lost throne — then passed 
the ]iHO^' Sjlood. 
The ancient Oxus. 

Note 126, p. 88. — Raised the white banner within 
Neksheb's gates. 

A city of Transoxiana. 

Note 127, p. 88. — To-day'' s young /lower is springing 
in its stead. 

"You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you 
meet there either blossoms or fruit; and as the blossoms 
drop underneath on the ground (which is frequently cov- 
ered with these purple-colored flowers), others come forth 
in their stead," etc., etc. — Nieuhoff. 

Note 128, p. 89. — With which the Dives have gifted 
him. 

'Hie Demons of the Persian mythology. 



276 NOTES. 

Note 129, p. 89. — That spangle India's fields on 
showery nights. 

Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy 
seasons. (See his Travels.) 

Note 130, p. 89. — Who brush'' d the thousands of the 
Assyrian King. 

Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal. 
— D 'Her be lot. 

Note 131, p. 90. — Of Parviz. 

Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, 
see Gibbon and D'Herbelot. 

There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of 
Khosrou Parviz a hundred vaults filled with "treasures so 
immense that some Mahometan writers tell us, their 
Prophet, to encourage his disciples, carried them to a rock 
which, at his command, opened, and gave them a prospect 
through it of the treasures of Khosrou." — Universal 
History. 

Note 132, p. 90. — And the heron crest that shone. 

"The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished be- 
fore the heron tuft of thy turban." — From one of the 
elegies or songs in praise of Ali, written in characters 
of gold round the gallery of Abbas's tomb. (See Char- 
din.) 

Note 133, p. 90 — Magnificent, o''er Ali's beauteous 
eyes. 

The beauty of Ali's eyes was so remarkable that when- 
ever the Persians would describe anything as very lovely, 
they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali. — Chardin, 



NOTES. 277 

Note 134, p. 90 — Rise from the Holy Well, ajid cast 
its light. 

We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor than 
that it was " une machine qu'il disoit etre la Lune." Ac- 
cording to Richardson, the miracle is perpetuated in Nek- 
scheb. — " Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxiana, 
where they say there is a well, in which the appearance of 
the moon is to be seen night and day." 

Note 135, p. 90. — Round the rich city and the plain 
for miles. 

" II amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de 
Nekscheb, en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d'un 
puits un corps lumineux semblable a la Lune, qui portoit 
sa lumiere jusqu'a la distance de plusieurs milles." — 
D'' Herbelot. Hence he was called Sazendehmah, or the 
Moon-maker. 

Note 136, p. 90. — Had rested on the Ark. 
The Shechinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. (See 
Sale's Note, chap, ii.) 

Note 137, p. 91. — Of the small dricm with zvhich they 
count the night. 

The parts of the night are made known as well by in- 
struments of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen 
with cries and small drums. (See Burder's Oriental Cus- 
toms, vol. i. p. 119.) 

Note 138, p. 91. — On for the lamps, that light yon 
lofty screen. 

The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened 
with cane, used to enclose a considerable space round the 
royal tents. — Notes on the Bahardanush. 

The tents of Frinces were generally illuminated. Nor- 



278 NOTES. 

den tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distin- 
guished from the other tents by forty lanterns being sus- 
pended before it. (See Harmer's Observations on Job.') 

Note 139, p. 91. — Pour to the spot, like bees ^ Kau- 

ZEROON. 

" From the groves of orange-trees at Kauzeroon the 
bees cull a celebrated honey." — Morier^s Travels. 

Note 140, p. 93 — Of Jitiptial pompy she sinks into his 
tide. 

"A custom still subsisting at this day seems to me to 
prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young vir- 
gin to the God of the Nile; for they now make a statue 
of earth in shape of a girl, to which they give the name 
of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the river." — 
Savajy. 

Note 141, p. 94. — Engines of havoc in, unknown 
before. 

That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the 
Mussulmans early in the eleventh century, appears from 
Dow's Account of Mamood I. "When he arrived at 
Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was defended 
by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be 
built, each of which he armed with six iron spikes, pro- 
jecting from their prows and sides, to prevent their being 
boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that 
kind of war. When he had launched this fleet, he 
ordered twenty archers into each boat, and five others 
with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and naphtha 
to set the whole river on fire." 

The agnee aster, too, in Indian poems the Instrurnent 
of Fire, whose flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed 



NOTES. 279 

to signify the Greek fire. (See Wilks's South of India, 
vol. i. p. 471.) And in the curious Javan Poem, the 
Brata Ytidha, given by Sir Stamford Raffles in his History 
of Java, we find, " He aimed at the heart of Soeta with 
the sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire." 

The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, 
long before its supposed discovery in Europe, is introduced 
by Ebn Fadhl, the Egyptian geographer, who lived in the 
thirteenth century. Bodies, he says, "in the form of 
scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous powder, 
glide along, making a gentle noise; then, exploding, they 
lighten, as it were, and burn. But there are others which, 
cast into the air, stretch along like a cloud, roaring hor- 
ribly, as thunder roars, and on all sides vomiting out flames, 
burst, burn, and reduce to cinders whatever comes in their 
way." The historian Ben Abdalla, in speaking of the 
sieges of Abulualid in the year of the Hegira 712, says, 
" A fiery globe, by means of combustible matter, with a 
mighty noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the force of 
lightning,' and shakes the citadel." (See the extracts 
from Casiri's Biblioth. Arab. Hispan. in the Appendix 
to Berington's Literary History of the Middle Ages.') 

"Note 142, p. 94. — And horrible as nexv ; — javelins 
that fly. 

The Greek fire, that was occasionally lent by the emper- 
ors to their allies. "It was," says Gibbon, "either launched 
in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in arrows or 
javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which had 
deeply imbibed the inflammable oil." 

Note 143, p. 94. — Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha 
fount. 

See Hanway's Account of the Springs of Naphtha at 



28o NOTES. 

Baku {y<i\\\Qh. is called by Lieutenant Pottinger "Joala 
Mokee," or the Flaming Mouth) taking fire and running 
into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions some 
wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflam- 
mable oil, from which issue boiling water. "Though 
the weather," he adds, "was now very cold, the warmth 
of these wells of hot water produced near them the ver- 
dure and flowers of spring." 

Major Scott Waring says, that naphtha is used by the 
Persians, as we are told it was in hell, for lamps. 

" many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asplialtus, yielding light 
As from a sky." 

Note 144, p. 94. — Like those wild birds thai by the 
Magians oft. 

"At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, 
they used to set fire to large bunches of dry combustibles, 
fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then 
let loose, the air and earth appeared one great illumina- 
tion; and as these terrified creatures naturally fled to the 
woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the conflagrations 
they produced," — Richardson'' s Dissertation. 

Note 145, p. 95. — Keep^ seaV d zvith precious musk, for 
those they love. 

"The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, 
sealed; the seal whereof shall be musk." — A'cpr.a;^, chap. 
Ixxxiii. 

Note 146, p. 98. — On its otvn brood; — 710 Demon of 
the Waste. 

"The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes 



NOTES. 281 

and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely 
demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of 
the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any 
sequestered tribe, by saying, They are wild as the Demon 
of the Waste." — Elphinstone'' s Caubul. 

Note 147, p. 99. — With burning drugs, for this last 
hour distiird. 

" II donna du poison dans le vin a tous ses gens, et se 
jeta luimeme ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues 
brulantes et consumantes, afin qu'il ne restat rien de tous 
les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui restoient de sa 
secte pussent croire qu'il etoit monte au ciel, ce qui ne 
manqua pas d'arriver." — D ^ Herbelot. 

Note 148, p. 100. — In the lone Cities of the Silent 
dwell. 

" They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, 
which they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities 
of the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of 
the departed, who sit each at the head of his own grave, 
invisible to mortal eyes." — Elphinstone. ' 

Note 149, p. 105. — And to eat any jnangoes but those of 
Mazago7ig was, of course, impossible. — "The celebrity of 
Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which are certainly the 
best fruit I ever tasted. The parent tree, from which all 
those of this species have been grafted, is honored during 
the fruit-season by a guard of sepoys; and, in the reign 
of Shah Jehan, couriers were stationed between Delhi 
and the Mahratta coast to secure an abundant and fresh 
supply of mangoes for the royal table." — Mrs. Graham's 
Jourtial of a Residence in India. 



282 NOTES. 

Note 150, p. 105. — Laden with his fine antique porce- 
lain. — This old porcelain is found in digging, and "if it 
is esteemed, it is not because it has acquired any new de- 
gree of beauty in the earth, but because it has retained its 
ancient beauty; and this alone is of great importance in 
China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels 
which were used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who 
reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang, at which 
time porcelain began to be used by the Emperors " (about 
the year 442). — Dunnes Collection of curious Observa- 
tions, etc.; — a bad translation of some parts of the Let- 
tres edifiantes et curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits. 

Note 151, p. 107. — And if N'asser, the Arabian mer- 
chant, told no better. — " La lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si 
fort aux Arabes, que, quand Mahomet les entretenoit de 
I'Histoire de I'Ancien Testament, ils la meprisoient, lui 
disant que celles que Nasser leur racontoit etoient beau- 
coup plus belles. Cette preference attira a Nasser la 
malediction de Mahomet et de tous ses disciples." — 
D 'Herbelot. 

Note 152, p. 107. — Like the blacksmith'' s apron con- 
verted into a banner. — The blacksmith Gao, who success- 
fully resisted the tyrant Zohak, and whose apron became 
the Royal Standard of Persia. 

Note 153, p. 109. — That sublime bird, which flies al- 
ways in the air, and tiever touches the earth. — "The Huma, 
a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to fly constantly 
in the air, and never touch the ground: it is looked upon 
as a bird of happy omen ; and that every head it overshades 
will in time wear a crown." — Richardson. 

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with 



NOTES. 283 

Hyder in 1760, one of the stipulations was, "that he 
should have the distinction of two honorary attendants 
standing behind him, holding fans composed of the 
feathers of the Huma, according to the practice of his 
family." — Wilks^s South of l7idia. He adds in a note : — 
"The Huma is a fabulous bird. The head over which 
its shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with a 
crown. The splendid little bird suspended over the throne 
of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Seringapatam in 1799, was 
intended to represent this poetical fancy." 

Note 154, p. 109. — Like those on the Written Moun- 
tain, last fo}' ever'. — "To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we 
must attribute the inscriptions, figures, etc., on those rocks, 
which have from thence acquired the name of the Written 
Mountain." — Volney. M. Gebelin and others have been 
at much pains to attach some mysterious and important 
meaning to these inscriptions; but Niebuhr, as well as Vol- 
ney, thinks that they must have been executed at idle hours 
by the travellers to Mount Sinai, " who were satisfied with 
cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument; 
adding to their names and the date of their journeys some 
rude figures, which bespeak the hand of a people but little 
skilled in the arts." — Nielnihr. 

Note 155, p. 109. — Like the Old Man of the Sea, upon 
his back. — The Story of Sinbad. 

Note 156, p. no. — To tuhich LLajez compares his mis- 
tress's hair. — See Nott's Hafez, Ode v. 

Note 157, p. no. — To the Cdi?ialatd, by whose rosy 
blossoms the heaven of Lndra is scented. — "The Camalata 
(called by Linnaeus, Ipomsea) is the most beautiful of its 
order, both in the color and form of its leaves and flowers; 



284 NOTES. 

its elegant blossoms are ' celestial rosy red. Love's proper 
hue,' and have justly procured it the name of Camalata, or 
Love's Creeper." — Sir W. Jones. 

"Camalata may also mean a mythological plant by 
which all desires are granted to such as inhabit the heaven 
of Indra; and if ever flower was worthy of Paradise, it is 
our charming Ipomaea." — Sir W. yones. 

Note 158, p. no. — That Jlotver-loving nymph whom 
they worship in the teinples of Kathay. — "According to 
Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese Mythology, the 
mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, surnamed 
Flower-loving; and as the nymph was walking alone on 
the bank of a river, she found herself encircled by a 
rainbow, after which she became pregnant, and, at the 
end of twelve years, was delivered of a son radiant 
as herself. ' ' — Asiatic Researches. 

Note 159, p. III. — With its plane-tree Isle reflected 
clear. 

"Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of 
Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the plane- 
trees upon it." — Foster. 

Note 160, p. III. — And the golden floods that thither- 
ward stray. 

"The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs 
into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in 
its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in 
gathering it." — Finkerton's Description of Tibet. 

Note 161, p. 112. — Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. 

"The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue 
campac flowers only in Paradise." — Sir W. Jones. It 
appears, however, from a curious letter of the Sultan of 



NOTES. 285 

Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth 
may lay claim to the possession of it. " This is the Sultan, 
who keeps the flower champaka that is blue, and to be 
found in no other country but his, being yellow else- 
where." — Marsdejt' s SuJ7iatra. 

Note 162, p. 112. — Flung at night from angel hands. 

"The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the 
firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, 
when they approach too near the empyrean or verge of 
the heavens." — Frier. 

Note 163, p. 113. — Beneath the pillars <?/ Chilminar. 

The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Per- 
sepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the 
edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of 
hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense treasures, 
which still remain there. (See D'Herbelot andVolney.) 

[ Note 164, p. 113. — To the south of sun-bright Araby. 

The Isles of Panchaia. 

Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of 
Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This 
island, or rather cluster of isles, has disappeared, "sunk 
(says Grandpre) in the abyss made by the fire beneath 
their foundations." — Voyage to the Indian Ocean. 

Note 165, p. 113. — ThejervelPd cup of their King Jam- 
SHID. 

"The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when dig- 
ging for the foundations of Persepolis." — Richardson. 

Note 166, p. 113. — 0''er coral rocks, and amber beds. 
"It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich 
with pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast 



286 NOTES. 

are store.d with gold and precious stones, whose gulfs breed 
creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants of whose 
shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hairzan, 
aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other spices 
and aromatics : where parrots and peacocks are birds of the 
forest, and musk and civet are collected upon the lands." 
— Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

Note 167, p. 1 14. — Thy Pagods and thy pillar ^d shades, 

" in the ground 

The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 

About the mother-tree, a pillar'' d shade, 

High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between." 

— Milton. 

For a particular description and plate of the Banyan- 
tree, see Cordiner's Ceylon. 

Note 168, p. 114. — Thy Monarchs and their Thousand 
Thrones. 

" With this immense treasure Mamood returned to 
Ghizni, and in the year 400 prepared a magnificent festi- 
val, where he displayed to the people his wealth in golden 
thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain without 
the city of Ghizni." — Ferishta. 

Note 169, p. 114. — ^ Tis he of Gazna — fierce in wrath. 

"Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India 
in the beginning of the eleventh century." (See his his- 
tory in Dow and Sir J. Malcolm.) 

Note 170, p. 114. — Of many a young and lov^d Sul- 
tana. 

"It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan 
Mahmood was so magnificent that he kept 400 greyhounds 



NOTES. 287 

and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar. set with 
jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls." — 
Universal History, vol. iii. 

Note 171, p. 115. — For Liberty shed, so holy is. 

Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty 
in this, and more especially in the story that follows it, as 
totally inapplicable to any state of things that has ever 
existed in the East; but though I cannot, of course, mean 
to employ it in that enlarged and noble sense which is so 
well understood at the present day, and, I grieve to say 
so little acted upon, yet it is no disparagement to the word 
to apply it to that national independence, that freedom 
from the interference and dictation of foreigners, without 
which, indeed, no liberty of any kind can exist; and for 
which both Hindoos and Persians fought against their 
Mussulman invaders with, in many cases, a bravery that 
deserved much better success. 

Note 172, p. 116. — N'ow ajjiong Ayric^S lunar Moun- 
tains. 

"The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunse of 
antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to rise." 
— Brtice. 

"Sometimes called," says Jackson, " Jibbel Kumrie, or 
the white or lunar-colored mountains; so a white horse is 
called by the Arabians a moon-colored horse." 

Note 173, p. 116. — And hail the new-born Giafit^s 
smile. 

"The Nile, which the Abyssinians know by the names 
of Abey and Alawy, or the Giant." — Asiatic Researches^ 
vol. i. p. 387. 



288 NOTES. 

Note 174, p. 116. — Her grots ^ and sepulchres of Kings. 

See Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the 
sepulchres in Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, 
covered all over with hieroglyphics, in the mountains of 
Upper Egypt. 

Note 175, p. 116. — In warm Rosetta's vale — now 
loves. 

"The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves." 
Sonnini. 

Note 176, p. 116. — The azure calm <?/" McERis' Lake. 
Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Moeris. 

Note 177, p. 116. — Warns them to their silken beds. 

"The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, 
like that of a handsome woman overcome with sleep." — 
Dafard el Hadad. 

Note 178, p. 117. — Some purple-winged Sultana 
sitting. 

" That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining 
blue, with purple beak and legs, the natural and living 
ornament of the temples and palaces of the Greeks and 
Romans, which, from the stateliness of its port, as well as 
the brilliancy of its colors, has obtained the title of Sul- 
tana." — Sonnini. 

Note 179, p. 117. — Only the fierce hycena stalks. 

Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West 
Barbary, when he was there, says, "The birds of the air 
fled away from the abodes of men. The hysenas, on the 
contrary, visited the cemeteries," etc. - , 



NOTES. 289 

Note 180, p. 117. — Throughout the city^s desolate 
walks. 

" Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned 
dark till the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of 
slaughtered carcasses which this cruel and unclean people 
expose in the streets without burial, and who firmly believe 
that these animals are Falashta from the neighboring 
mountains, transformed by magic, and come down to eat 
human flesh in the dark in safety." — Bruce. 

Note 181, p. 117. — The glaring of those large blue eyes. 

— Bruce. 

Note 182, p. 119. — But see — who yonder comes by 
stealth. 

This circumstance has been often introduced into poetry, 

— by Vincentius Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, with 
very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson. 

Note 183, p. 121. — Who sings at the last his own 
death-lay: 

*' In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty 
orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and 
that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a 
funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies 
through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velo- 
city which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself." — 
Richardson. 

Note 184, p. 122. — Their first sweet draught of glory 
take. 

" On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand 
goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to 
enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave." — From Chateau- 
briand's Description of the Mahometan Paradise in his 
Beauties of Christianity. 



290 NOTES. 

Note 185, p. 122. — Now^ tipon Syria's land of roses. 

Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a 
beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that 
country has been always famous; — hence, Suristan, the 
Land of Roses. 

Note 186, p. 123. — Gay lizards, glittering on the walls. 

"The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court 
of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thou- 
sands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined 
buildings were covered with them." — Bruce. 

Note 187, p. 123. — Of shepherd^ s ancient reed. 
"The Syrinx, or Pan's pipe, is still a pastoral instru- 
ment in Syria." — Rtissel. 

Note 188, p. 123. — Of the wild bees of Palestine. 

"Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or 
branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said 
(Psa. Ixxxi.), ' honey out of the stony rock.' " — Burder's 
Oriental Custoi7is. 

Note 189, p. 123. — And woods^ so full of jiightingales. 

"The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, 
thick, and pleasant woods, among which thousands of 
nightingales warble all together." — Thevenot. 

Note 190, p. 123. — On that great Temple^ once his 
own. 

The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. 

Note 191, p. 124. — The beautiful blue damsel flies. 

" You behold there a considerable number of a remark- 
able species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose 
appearance and their attire procured for them the name of 
Damsels." — Sonnini. 



NOTES. 291 

Note 192, p. 124. — Of a small imaret^s rustic fount. 

Imaret, "hospice ou on loge at nourrit, gratis, les 
pelerins pendant trois jours." — Toderini, translated by 
the Abb^ de Courtiand. (See also Castellan's Mceurs des 
Ot/io?nans, torn. v. p. 145.) 



Note 193, p. 125. — Kneels, with his forehead to the 
south. 

" Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on 
the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to 
attend the mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty; 
nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business they 
are then about, but pray immediately when the hour 
alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place 
they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a janissary, 
whom you have to guard you up and down the city, hears 
the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will 
turn about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell 
his charge he must have patience for a while; when, tak- 
ing out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits 
cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in 
the open market, which having ended, he leaps briskly up, 
salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, and 
renews his journey with the mild expression of Ghell 
ghonnum ghell, or, Come, dear, follow me." — Aaron 
HiWs Travels. 

Note 194, p. 127. — Upon Egypt's land, of so healing 
a power. 

The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt 
precisely on St. John's Day, in June, and is supposed to 
have the effect of stopping the plague. 



292 NOTES. 

Note 195, p. 128. — Are the diamond turrets of SuAT>V- 

KIAM. 

The Country of Delight — the name of a province in 
the kingdom of Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of 
which is called the City of Jewels. Amberabad is another 
of the cities of Jinnistan. 

Note 196, p. 128. — My feast is now of the Tooba Tree. 

The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace 
of Mahomet. See Sale's Prelim. Disc. — Tooba, says 
D'Herbelot, signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness. 

Note 197, p. 128. — To the lote-tree, springing by 
Alla's throne. 

Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, 
as having seen the Angel Gabriel " by the lote-tree, be- 
yond which there is no passing: near it is the Garden of 
Eternal Abode." This tree, say the commentators, 
stands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the 
Throne of God. 

Note 198, p. 128. — As the hundred and twenty thousand 
streams of Basra. — '* It is said that the rivers or streams 
of Basra were reckoned in the time of Pelal ben Abi Bor- 
deh, and amounted to the number of one hundred and 
twenty thousand streams." — Ebn Haiikal. 

Note 199, p. 129. — Who, like them, flung the jereed 
carelessly. — The name of the javelin with which the 
Easterns exercise. (See Castellan, Mxurs des Othomans, 
tom. iii. p. 161.) 

Note 200, p. 130. — The Banyan Hospital. — "This 
account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospital, 
as I had heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of 



NOTES. 293 

animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, through age 
or accident. On my arrival, there were presented to my 
view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment; in 
another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean 
straw for them to repose on. Above stairs were deposi- 
tories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad dishes for 
water, for the use of birds and insects." — Parsons'' s 
Travels, 

It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the 
most timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer 
to them than to other people. (See GrandprL^ 

Note 201, p. 130. — Like that of the fragraiit grass near 
the Ganges. — "Avery fragrant grass from the banks of 
the Ganges, near Heridwar, which in some places covers 
whole acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a strong odor." 
— Sir W. Jones, on the Spiketiard of the Ancients. 

Note 202, p. 130. — No one had ever yet reached its 
suf?i??iit. — "Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talism, 
the Mountain of the Talisman, because, according to the 
traditions of the country, no person ever succeeded in 
gaining its summit." — Kinneir. 

Note 203, p. 131. — Is warmed into life by the eyes 
alone. — "The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch 
their young by only looking at them." — P. Vanslebe^ 
Relat. d'Egypte. 

Note 204, p. 132. — And then lost them again forever. — 
See Salens Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 484. 

Note 205, p. 132. — While the artisans in chariots. — 
Oriental Tales. 



294 NOTES. 

Note 206, p. 132. — Who kept waving over their heads 
plates of gold and silver Jloivers. — Ferishta. " Or rather," 
says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta, from which this 
is taken, " small coins, stamped with the figure of a 
flower. They are still used in India to distribute in 
charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers of 
the great among the populace." 

Note 207, p. 133. — Alley of trees. — The fine road 
made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, 
planted with trees on each side. This road is 250 leagues 
in length. It has " little pyramids or turrets," says 
Bernier, " erected every half league, to mark the ways, 
and frequent wells to afford drink to passengers, and to 
water the young trees." 

Note 208, p. 134. — That favorite tree of the luxurious 
bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with fire-flies. 
— The Baya, or Indian Grosbeak. — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 209, p. 134. — On the clear cold zvaters of which 
floated T7iultitudes of the beautiful red lotus. — " Here is 
a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float 
multitudes of the beautiful red lotus; the flower is larger 
than that of the white water-lily, and is the most lovely of 
the nymphseas I have seen." — Mrs. Graham's Journal 
of a Residence in India. 

Note 210, p. 135. — Had fled hither from their Arab 
conquerors. — "On les voit persecutes par les Khalif se 
retirer dans les montagnes du Kerman : plusieurs choisirent 
pour retraite la Tartaric et la Chine; d'autres s' arreterent 
sur les bords du Gange, a Test de Delhi." — M. Anquetil, 
Memoir es de V Academic, tom. xxxi. p. 346. 



NOTES. 295 

Note 211, p. 136. — Like their oivn Fire in the Burning 
Field at Bakou. — The ".Ager ardens " described by 
Kaempfer, Amcenitat Exot. 

Note 212, p. 136. — The prey of strangers. — "Cash- 
mere (says its historians) had its own princes 4000 years 
before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have 
found some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the Indies, 
situated as it is within such a fortress of mountains, but 
its monarch Yusef-Khan was basely betrayed by his 
Omrahs. ' ' — Pennant. 

Note 213, p. 136. — Fire-worshippers. — Voltaire tells 
us that in his Tragedy, " Les Guebres," he was generally 
supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists. I should not 
be surprised if this story of the Fire-worshippers were 
found capable of a similar doubleness of application. 

Note 214, p. 138. — '' Tis moonlight over Oman's Sea. 
The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates 
the shores of Persia and Arabia. 

Note 215, p. 138. — 'Tis moonlight in Harmozia's 
walls. 

The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of 
the Gulf. 

Note 216, p. 138. — Of trumpet and the clash of zel. 
A Moorish instrument of music. 

Note 217, p. 138. — The wind-tower on the Emir's 
dome. 

" At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have 
towers for the purpose of catching the wind, and cooling 
the houses." — Le Briiyn. 



296 NOTES. 

Note 218, p. 139. — His race hath brought on Iran's 
na7ne. 

"Iran is the true general name for the empire of 
Persia." — Asiatic Researches, Disc. 5. 

Note 219, p. 139. — Engraven on his reeking sword. 
"On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the 
Koran is usually inscribed." — Russel. 

Note 220, p. 139. — Draw venom forth that drives men 
mad. 

"There is a kind of Rhododendron about Trebizond 
whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence 
drives people mad." — Tournefort. 

Note 221, p. 140. — Upon the turban of a king. 
"Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers 
upon the right side as a badge of sovereignty." — Hanway. 

Note 222, p. 141. — Springing in a desolate nioujitain. 

"The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is 

situated in some dark region of the East." — Richardson. 

Note 223, p. 141. — On sumjner-eveSy thronghY'EM'E.ii^S 
dales. 

Arabia Felix. 

Note 224, p. 142. — JVho, lulPd in cool kiosk or bower. 

"In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a 
large room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in 
the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and en- 
closed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, 
and honeysuckles make a sort of green wall; large trees 
are planted round this place, which is the scene of their 
greatest pleasures." — Lady M. W. Alonta'^-'' 



NOTES. 297 

Note 225, p. 142. — Before their mirrors count the time. 
The women of the East are never without their looking- 
glasses. In "Barbary," says Shaw, "they are so fond of 
their looking-glasses, which they hang upon their breasts, 
that they will not lay them aside, even when, after the 
drudgery of the day, they are obliged to go two or three 
miles with a pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch water." — 
Travels. 

In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on 
their thumbs. "Hence (and from the lotus being con- 
sidered the emblem of beauty) is the meaning of the fol- 
lowing mute intercourse of two lovers before their par- 
ents : — 

" ' He, with salute of deference due, 
A lotus to his forehead prest ; 
She rais'd her mirror to his view, 
Then turn'd it inward to her breast.' " 

— Asiatic Miscellany, vol. ii. 

Note 22, p. 142. — Upon the emerald'' s virgin blaze. 

"They'say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the 
lustre of those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes 
blind." — Ahmed ben Abdalaziz, Treatise on Jeiuels. 

Note '227, p. 143. — After the day-beam'' slithering fire. 

"At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes 
so hot that the people are obliged to lie all day in the 
water." — Marco Polo. 

Note 228, p. 143. — 6y Ararat's tremendous peak. 

This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. 
Struy says, "I can well assure the reader that their opin- 
ion is not true, who suppose this mount to be inaccessi- 
ble." He adds, that "the lower part of the mountain is 
cloudy, mistw;i,and dark; the middlemost part very cold, 



298 NOTES. 

and like clouds of snow; but the upper regions perfectly 
calm," It was on this mountain that the Ark was sup- 
posed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they 
say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely accounts for : 
— "Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of 
the hill did ever change or was subject either to wind or 
rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark has 
endured so long without being rotten." — (See Carreri's 
Travels^ where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of 
Mount Ararat.) 

Note 229, p. 144. — The Bt'idegroom, ivith his locks of 
light. 

In one of the books of the Shdh Ndmeh^ when Zal (a 
celebrated hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair) 
comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, she 
lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent; — 
he, however, manages it in a less romantic way, by fixing 
his crook in a projecting beam. (See Champion's Fer- 
dosi. ) 

Note 230, p. 144. — The rock-goats ^Arabia clamber. 
" On the lofty hills of Arabia Petrsea are rock-goats." — 

Niebuhr. ^ 

Note 231, p. 145. — Sojue ditty to her soft Kanoon. 

"Canun, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de boy- 
aux; les dames en touchent dans le serail, avec des ecailles 
armees de pointes de cooc." — Toderini, translated by 
De Cournand. 

Note 232, p. 149. — The Gheber belt that round him 
clung. 

"They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee 



NOTES. 299 

or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it." — 
Grose's Voyage. " Le jeune homme nia d'abord la ciiose; 
mais, ayant ete depouille de sa robe, et la large ceinture 
qu'il portoit comme Ghebr," etc., etc. — D^Herbelot, art. 
Agdimni. "Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de I'lnde, 
les Guebres se ceignent tous d'un cordon de laine, ou de 
poil de chameau." — Eticyclopedie F7'an^oise. 

D'Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 

Note 233, p. 149. — Among the living lights of heaven. 

"They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in 
the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary." — 
Hanway. "As to fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head 
of it in that globe of fire, the Sun, by them called Mythras, 
or Mihir, to which they pay the highest reverence, in 
gratitude for the manifold benefits flowing from its minis- 
terial omniscience. But they are so far from confound- 
ing the subordination of the Servant with the majesty of 
its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of sense or 
reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but 
consider it as a purely passive blind instrument, directed 
and governed by the immediate impression on it of the 
will of God : but they do not even give that luminary, all- 
glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst His 
works, reserving the first for that stupendous production of 
divine power, the mind of man." — Grose. The false 
charges brought against the religion of these people by 
their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many of 
the truth of this writer's remark, that, "calumny is often 
added to oppression, if but for the sake of justifying it." 

Note 234, p. 151. — And fiery darts, at intervals. 
"The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it 
was dark, used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the 



300 NOTES. 

air, which in some measure resembled lightning or falling 
stars." — Baumgarten. 

Note 235, p. 153. — Which g)' 07V s over the tomb of the 
musician, Tan-Sein. — "Within the enclosure which 
surrounds this monument (at Gualior) is a small tomb to 
the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable 
skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is 
overshadowed by a tree concerning which a superstitious 
notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give an 
extraodinary melody to the voice." — Narrative of a Jour- 
ney from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq. 

Note 236, p. 153. — The awful signal of the bamboo staff. 
— "It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, 
fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the 
place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common 
for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick 
near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile 
equal to a good wagon-load is collected. The sight of 
these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melan- 
choly, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension." — 
Oriental Tie Id Sports, vol. ii. 

Note 237, p. 153. — Ornamented with the most beauti- 
ful porcelain. — "The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod 
Tree and Tree of Councils; the first, from the idols placed 
under its shade; the second, because meetings were held 
under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to 
be the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of 
Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected beneath 
the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly carved, and 
ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain to supply 
the use of mirrors." — Pennant. 



NOTES. 301 

Note 238, p. 153. — And o^er the Green Sea palely 
shines. 

The Persian Gulf. — "To dive for pearls in the Green 
Sea, or Persian Gulf." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 239, p. 153. — Revealing Bahrein's groves of 
palm^ 
And lighting Kishma's atnber 
vines. 
Islands in the Gulf. 

Note 240, p. 154. — Blow round Selama's sainted 
cape. 

Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the 
entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. 
"The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw 
cocoanuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, to secure a 
propitious voyage. ' ' — Morier. 

Note 241, p. 154. — The nightingale now bends her 
flight. 

"The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves in 
the daytime, and from the loftiest trees at night." — Rus- 
sel ^s Aleppo. 

Note 242, p. 154. — The best and brightest scimitar. 

In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, 
"The dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest 
scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not 
receive the least rust." 

Note 243, p. 155. — Who, on Cadessia's bloody plains. 
The place where the Persians were finally defeated by 
the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed. 



302 NOTES. 

Note 244, p. 155. — Beyond the Caspian'' s Iron Gates. 

Derbend. — " Les Turcs appellant cette ville Demir 
Capi, Porte de Fer: ce sont les Caspiae Portge des an- 
ciens." — D ^ Herbelot. 

Note 245, p. 155. — They bursty like Zeilan's giant 
palm. 

The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm- 
tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be 
classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher 
when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. 
The sheath which then envelops the flower is very large, 
and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of 
a cannon." — Thunberg. 

Note 246, p. 157. — Before 7uhose sabre ^s dazzling light. 
" When the brights cimitars make the eyes of our heroes 
wink." — The-Moallakat, Poem of Amru. 

Note 247, p. 158. — Sprung from those old etichanted 
kings. 

Tahmuras, and other ancient kings of Persia; whose 
adventures in Fairy-land among the Peris and Dives may 
be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The grif- 
fin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers from her 
breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, 
and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants. 

Note 248, p. 158. — Of sainted cedars on its banks. 

This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River, 
from the " cedar saints " among which it rises. 

In the Lettres J^difiantes, there is a different cause as- 
signed for its name of Holy. " In these are deep caverns, 
which formerly served as so many cells for a great number 



NOTES. 303 

of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only 
witnesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. 
The tears of these pious penitents gave the river of which 
we have just treated the name of the Holy River." — See 
Ckdieaubj'iajid^s Beauties of Christianity . 

Note 249, p. 160. — Of Oman beetling awftdly. 

This mountain is my own creation, as the " stupendous 
chain," of which I suppose it a link, does not extend 
quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf. "This 
long and lofty range of mountains formerly divided Media 
from Assyria, and now forms the boundary of the Persian 
and Turkish empires. It runs parallel with the river Tigris 
and Persian Gulf, and, almost disappearing in the vicinity 
of Gomberoon (Harmozia), seems once more to rise in 
the southern districts of Kerman, and following an easterly 
course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, 
is entirely lost in the deserts of Sinde." — Kinneir''s Per- 
sian Empire. 

Note 250, p. 160. — That oft the sleeping albatross. 
These birds sleep in the air. They are most common 
about the Cape of Good Hope. 

Note 251, p. 160. — Beneath the Gheber^s lonely cliff. 

" There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, 
called Kobe Gubr, or the Guebre's mountain. It rises in 
the form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they 
say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu, or Fire-Temple. 
It is superstitiously held to be the residence of Deeves or 
Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the 
injury and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in 
former days to ascend or explore it." — Pottinger^s Beloo- 
c hi start. 



304 NO TES. 

Note 252, p. 161. — Of that vast mountain stood on fire. 
The Ghebers generally built their temples over subter- 
raneous fires. 

Note 253, p. 161. — Still did the mighty flame burn on. 

" At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished 
by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of 
Religion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush 
Kudu, or Fire-Temple (which, they assert, has had the 
sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster), in their own 
compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are 
indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance, of the Persian 
government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each 
man." — Pottinger 'j Beloochistan. 

Note 254, p. 162. — The blood of Zai. and RuSTAM rolls. 

Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Guebres there 
are some who boast their descent from Rustam." — Steph- 
en's Persia. 

Note 255, p. 163. — Across the dark sea robber'' s way. 

See Russel's account of the panther's attacking travel- 
lers in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of 
Lebanon. 

Note 256, p. 163. — The wandering Spirits of their 
Dead. 

" Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon 
the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon 
which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their 
departed heroes regaled themselves." — Richardson. 

Note 257, p. 163. — Nor charmed leaf of pure pome- 
granate. 

In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as 



NOTES. 305 

described by Lord, " the Daroo," he says, " giveth them 
water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the 
mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness." 

Note 258, p. 163. — Nor symbol of their worshipped 
planet. 

"Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers 
at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, 
to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, 
made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and 
when the sun rises these orbs seem to be inflamed, and 
to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a 
censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun." — 
Rabbi Benjamin. 

Note 259, p. 163. — They swore the latest, holiest deed. 

"Nul d'entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris a 
temoin cet element terrible et vengeur." — Encyclopidie 
Franfoise. 

Note 260, p. 164. — The Persian lily shines and towers. 

" A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the 
ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of a 
resplendent yellow color." — RussePs Aleppo. 

Note 261, p. 166. — When tossed at midnight fitriozisly. 

"It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, 
that when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like 
fire." — Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

Note 262, p. 167. — Up, daughter, up, — the Kerna's 
breath. 

A kind of trumpet; — it "was that used by Tamerlane, 
the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, 



306 NOTES. 

and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several 
miles." — Richardson. 

Note 263, p. 167. — Thou wor^st on Ohod's field of 
death. 

" Mohanimed had two helmets, an interior and exterior 
one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, 
wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of 
Ohod." — Universal History. 

Note 264, p. 169. — But turn to ashes on the lips. 

They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of 
this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all 
full of ashes. — Thevenot. The same is asserted of the 
oranges there; vide Witman's Travels in Asiatic Turkey. 

"The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead 
Sea, is very remarkable on account of the considerable 
proportion of salt which it contains. In this respect it 
surpasses every other known water on the surface of the 
earth. This great proportion of bitter-tasted salts is the 
reason why neither animal nor plant can live in this 
water." — Klaprotli's Chei?iical Analysis of the Water of 
the Dead Sea, Anndilsoi Philosophy, January, 1813. Has- 
selquist, however, doubts the truth of this last assertion, 
as there are shell-fish to be found in the lake. 

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the 
Dead Sea, in that wonderful display of genius, his third 
canto of Childe Harold, — magnificent beyond anything, 
perhaps, that even he has ever written. 

Note 265, p. 169. — While lakes, that shone in mockery 
nigh. 

" The Suhrab, or Water of the Desert, is said to be 
caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme 



NOTES. 307 

heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is most fre- 
quent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. 
I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it with as much 
accuracy as though it had been the face of a clear and 
still lake." — Pottinger. 

"As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapor in 
a plain which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, 
until when he cometh thereto hefindeth it to be nothing." 

— Korati, chap. xxiv. 

Note 266, p. 170. — The Bidmusk had just passed over ^ 

— "A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, 
from a small and odoriferous flower of that name." — "The 
wind which blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end 
of the month." — Le Brtiyn. 

Note 267, p. 170. — The sea-gipsies, who live forever on 
the zvater. — " The Biajiis are of two races: the one is set- 
tled on Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious 
nation, who reckon themselves the original possessors of 
the Island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gip- 
sies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, 
and enjoy a perpetual summer on the Eastern Ocean, 
shifting to leeward from island to island, with the varia- 
tions of the monsoon. In some of their customs, this 
singular race resemble the natives of the Maldivia islands. 
The Maldivians annually launch a small bark, loaded with 
perfumes, gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn 
it adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering 
to the Spirit of the Winds ; and sometimes similar offer- 
ings are made to the spirit whom they term the King of 
the Sea. In like manner the Biajus perform their offering 
to the God of Evil, launching a small bark, loaded with 
all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are 



3o8 NO TES. 

imagined to fall on the unhappy crew that may be so 
unlucky as first to meet with it." — Dr. Ley den on the 
Languages and Literature of the Indo- Chinese Nations. 

Note 268, p. 170. — The violet sherbets. — " The sweet- 
scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, particu- 
larly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet 
sugar." — Hasselquist. 

" The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drunk by 
the Grand Signor himself, is made of violets and sugar." 

— Tavernier. 

Note 269, p. 170. — The pathetic measure of N^ava. — 
" Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in 
the measure called Nava, which is always used to express 
the lamentations of absent lovers." — Persian Tales. 

Note 270, p. 171. — No music tim'^d her parting oar. 
" The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages 
with music." — Har?ner. 

Note 271, p. 171. — In silence through the Gate of 
Tears. 

"The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the 
Red Sea, commonly called Babelmandel. It received 
this name from the old Arabians, on account of the danger 
of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which 
it was distinguished; which induced them to consider as 
dead, and to wear mourning for, all who had the boldness 
to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean." 

— Richardson. 

Note 272, p. 172. — In the still warm and living breath. 

"I have been told that whensoever an animal falls 
down dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly 
appear." — Pennant. 



NOTES. 309 

Note 273, p. 172. — As ayoziizgbirdof^A'BY'LO'ii. 
"They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat 
or Babylonian pigeon." — Travels of Certain Englishmen. 

Note 274, p. 172. — Shooting around their jasper fount. 

"The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself 
with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were 
many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she 
caused to be put round them." — Harris. 

Note 275, p. 172. — To tell her ruby rosary. 

" Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet compose de 99 petites 
boules d'agate, de jaspe, d'ambre, de corail, ou d'autre 
matiere precieuse. J 'en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur 
Jerpos; il etoit de belles et grosses perles parfaites et 
egales, estime trente mille piastres." — Toderini. 

Note 276, p. 175. — Like meteor brands as if throughout. 
The meteors that Pliny calls " faces." 

Note 277, p. 176. — The Star of Egypt whose proud 
light. 

"The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates." 
— Brown. 

Note 278, p. 176. — hi the White Islands of the West. 
See Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred Isles of the 
West. 

Note 279, p. 176. — Sparkles, as Uzvere that lightning 
gem. 

A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients 
Cerauneum, because it was supposed to be found in places 
where thunder had fallen. Tertullian says it has a glitter- 



3IO NOTES. 

ing appearance, as if there had been fire in it; and the 
author of the Dissertation in Harris's Voyages supposes it 
to be the opal. 

Note 280, p. 178. — Their garb — the leathern belt that 
wraps. 

D'Herbelot, art. Agduani, 

Note 281, p. 178. — Each yellow vest — that rebel hue. 
" The Guebres are known by a dark yellow color, which 
the men affect in their clothes." — Thevenot. 

Note 282, p. 178. — The Tartar fleece upon their caps. 
"The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of 
the skin of the sheep of Tartary." — Waring. 

Note 283, p. 183. — Opeji her bosojfi^ s glowing veil. 

A frequent image among the Oriental poets, "The 
nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the 
thin veils of the rosebud and the rose." — Jami. 

Note 284, p. 185. — The sorrowful tree, AHlica. — 
" Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable 
color to silk." — Re77iarks on the Husbandry of Bengal, p. 
200. Nilica is one of the Indian names of this flower. — 
Sir W. Jones. The Persians call it Gul. — Carreri. 

Note 285, p. 186. — That cooling feast the traveller 
loves. 

" In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from 
the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them 
for those who have not any, or for travellers." — Ebn 
Haukal. 



NOTES. 311 

Note 286, p. 186. — The Searchej's of the Grave appear. 

The two terrible angels Monkir and Nakir, who are 
called " the Searchers of the Grave " in the " Creed of the 
orthodox Mahometans " given by Ockley, vol. ii. 

Note 287, p. 187. — The ?nandrake^s charnel leaves at 
night. 

"The Arabians call the mandrake ' the Devil's candle,' 
on account of its shining appearance in the night." — 
Richardsoji. 

Note 288, p. 192. — Of the still Halls ^/ISHMONIE. 

For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper 
Egypt, where it is said there are many statues of men, 
women, etc., to be seen to this day, see Perry's View of 
the Levant. 

Note 289, p. 194. — And ne^er did saint of IssA gaze. — 
Jesus. 

Note 290, p. 194. — The death-^ames that beneath him 
burned. 

The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their great 
Prophet, was thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, the 
flame turned instantly into "a bed of roses, where the 
child sweetly reposed." — Tavernier. 

Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told 
in Dion Prusaeus, Orat. 36, that the love of wisdom and 
virtue leading him to a solitary life upon a mountain, he 
found it one day all in a flame, shining with celestial fire, 
out of which he came without any harm, and instituted 
certain sacrifices to God, who, he declared, then appeared 
to him. (See Patrick on Exodus iii. 2.) 



312 NOTES. 

Note 291, p. 196. — A ponderous sea-horn hung^ and 
blew. 

*' The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, 
and the Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a 
trumpet for blowing alarms or giving signals: it sends 
forth a deep and hollow sound." — Pennant. 

Note 292, p. 197. — And the white ox-tails streamed be- 
hind. 

*' The finest ornament for the horses is made of six 
large flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the 
tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of 
the Indies." — Thevenot. 

Note 293, p. 198. — Sweet as the angel ISRAFiL's. 
"The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice 
of all God's creatures." — Sale. 

Note 294, p. 201. — Wound slow, as through GOLCON- 
Da's vale. 

See Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad. 

Note 295, p. 204. — From the wild covert where he lay. 

" In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan, several 
sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbor themselves, whose 
being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the 
river gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall 
come tip like a lion from the swelling of 'Jordan.^'' — Maun- 
drelPs Aleppo. 

Note 296, p. 211. — Like the wind of the south o^er a 
summer lute bloiving. 

"This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes 
that they can never be tuned while it lasts." — Stephen'' s 
Persia, 



NOTES. 313 

Note 297, p, 211. — With nought but the sea-star to light 
up her tomb. 

" One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian 
Gulf is a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circu- 
lar, and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon 
surrounded by rays." — Mirza Abu Taleb. 

Note 298, p. 21 1 . — And stilly when the merry date-season 
is burning. 

For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of 
their work, their dances, and their return home from the 
palm-groves at the end of autumn with the fruits, see 
Kaempfer, A?ncenitat. Exot. 

Note 299, p. 212. — That ever the sorrowing sea-bird 
has wept. 

Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concre- 
tion of the tears of birds. (See Trevoux, Chambers.^ 

Note 300, p. 212. — We'' II seek where the sands of the 
Caspian are sparkling. 

" The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the 
Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire." — Struy. 

Note 301, p. 213. — The stwtmary criticism of the 
Chabuk. — " The application of whips or rods." — Dubois. 

Note 302, p, 214. — Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beau- 
tiful Forms. — Kaempfer mentions such an ofificer among 
the attendants of the King of Persia, and calls him " for- 
mse corporis sestimator." His business was, at stated 
periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of 
regulation-girdle, whose limits it was not thought graceful 
to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of shape, 
they were reduced by abstinence till they came within 
proper bounds. 



314 NOTES. 

Note 303, p. 214. — Forbidden River. — The Attock. 

" Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the 
Nilab, which he called Attock, which means in the Indian 
language Forbidden; for, by the superstition of the Hin- 
doos, it was held unlawful to cross that river." — Data's 
Hindostan. 

Note 304, p. 215. — One gejiial star that rises nightly 
over their heads. — " The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) 
are never afflicted with sadness or melancholy; on this 
subject the Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the following 
distich : 

" ' Who is the man without care or sorrow, (tell) that 
I may rub my hand to him. 

" ' (Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, 
frolicsome with tipsiness and mirth.' 

"The philosophers have discovered that the cause of 
this cheerfulness proceeds from the influence of the star 
Soheil or Canopus, which rises over them every night." — 
Extract fro jn a Geographical Persian Manuscript called 
Heft Aklim^ or the Seven Climates, translated by W. 
Ouseley, Esq. 

Note 305, p. 215. — Lizards. — " The lizard Stellio. The 
Arabs call it Hardun. The Turks kill it, for they imagine 
that by declining the head it mimics them when they say 
their prayers." — Hasselqtdst. 

Note 306, p. 215. — Royal Gardens. — For these parti- 
culars respecting Hussun Abdaul, I am indebted to the 
very interesting Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone's work 
upon Caubul. 

Note 307, p. 216. — // was too delicious. — "As you 
enter at that Bazar, without the gate of Damascus, you 



NOTES. 315 

see the Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple 
faced with green glazed bricks, which render it very 
resplendent; it is covered at top with a pavilion of the 
same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made in 
that place, because Mahomet being come so far, would 
not enter the town, saying it was too delicious." — Theve- 
not. This reminds one of the following pretty passage in 
Isaac Walton: — "When I sat last on this primrose 
bank, and looked down these meadows, I thought of them 
as Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence, ' that 
they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on 
holidays.' " 

Note 308, p. 216. — The Stdtana Notcrtnahal, the 

Light of the Haram. — Nourmahal signifies Light of the 

Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or the 
Light of the World. 

Note 309, p. 216. — The small shining fishes of ivhich 
she was so. fond. — See note 274, p. 309. 

Note 310, p. 216. — Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair 
mistress Marida. — *' Haroun-al-Raschid, cinquieme Kha- 
life des Abassides, s'etant un jour brouille avec une de 
ses maitresses nommee Maridah, qu'il aimoit cependant 
jusqu'a r exces, et cette mesintelligence ayant deja dure 
quelque tems, commeni^a a s'ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, 
son favori, qui s'en aper^ut, commanda a Abbas-ben- 
Ahnaf , excellent poete de ce tems-la, de composer quelques 
vers sur le sujet de cette brouillerie. Ce poete executa 
I'ordre de Giafar, qui fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en 
presence du Khalife, et ce prince fut tellement touche de 
la tendresse des vers du poete et de la douceur de la voix 
du musicien, qu'il alia aussit t trouver Maridah, et fit sa 
paix avec elle." — D'Herbelot. 



3i6 NOTES. 

Note 311, p. 217. — With its roses the brightest that 
earth ever gave. 

"The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy 
of odor, has long been proverbial in the East." — Forster. 

Note 312, p. 217. — Round the waist of some fair 
Indian dancer is ringing. 

"Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded 
with ravishing melody," — Song of Jayadeva. 

Note 313, p. 218. — The young aspen-trees. 

"The little isles in the lake of Cachemire are set with 
arbors and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall." — 
Bernier. 

Note 314, p. 218. — Shines in through the mountainous 
portal that opes. 

"The Tuclct Suliman, the name bestowed by the 
Mahometans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal 
to the Lake." — Forster, 

Note 315, p. 218. — The Valley holds its Feast of Roses. 
"The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their 
remaining in bloom." (See Pietro de la Valle.) 

Note 316, p. 218. — The Flozv^ret of a hundred leaves. 
" Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I be- 
lieve a particular species." — Ouseley. 

Note 317, p. 219. — Behind the palms ^Baramoule. — 
Bernier. 

Note 318, p. 219. — On Bela's hills is less alive. 

A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or 
Memoirs of Jehan-Guire, where there is an account of the 
beds of saffron-flowers about Cashmere. 



NOTES. 317 

Note 319, p. 220. — Sung from his lighted gallery. 

"It is the custom among the women to employ the 
Maazeen to chant from the galler)' of the nearest minaret, 
which on that occasion is illuminated, and the women 
assembled at the house respond at intervals with a ziraleet 
or joyous chorus." — Russel. 

Note 320, p. 220. — From gardens^ where the silken 
swing. 

" The swing is a favorite pastime in the East, as promot- 
ing a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those 
sultry climates." — Richardson. 

"The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime 
is accompanied with the music of voices and of instru- 
ments, hired by the masters of the swings." — Thevenot. 

Note 321, p. 220. — Afnongthe tents that line the 7vay. 

" At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an 
infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of 
men, women, boys, and girls, with music, dances," etc., 
etc. — Herbert, 

Note 322, p. 220. — An answer in song to the kiss of 
each wave. 

" An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the 
ancients having remarked that a current of water made 
some of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they 
detached some of them, and being charmed with the 
delightful sound they emitted, constructed King or musical 
instruments of them." — Gr osier. 

This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the 
shore of Attica. " Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum 
musicum illisis terrse undis reddere, quod propter tantam 
eruditionisvim puto dictum." — Ludov. Vives in Augustin. 
de Civitat. Dei, lib. xviii. c. 8. 



3i8 NOTES. 

Note 323, p. 221 . — So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar. 
Jehan-Guire was the son of the Great Acbar. 

Note 324, p. 222. — Yet playful as Peris just loosed frof?t 
their cages. 

In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the 
former took the latter prisoners, " they shut them up in 
iron cages, and hung them on the highest trees. Here 
they were visited by their companions, who brought them 
the choicest odors." — Richardson. 

Note 325, p. 207. — Of the flowers of this planet — 
though treasures zvere there. 

In the Malay language the same word signifies women 
and flowers. 

Note 326, p. 223. — He saw that City of Delight. 
The capital of Shadukiam. See note 195, p. 292. 

Note 327, p. 224. — He sits, with flow^ rets fetter'' d round. 

See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned 
closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Ceremo- 
nies Religieuses. 

Note 328, p. 225. — Lose all their glory when he flies. 

"Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, 
which sings so melodiously that it is called the Celestial 
Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated with 
beautiful colors, but when it flies they lose all their splen- 
dor." — Gr osier. 

Note 329, p. 225. — Whose pinion knows no resting- 
place. 

"As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to 
rest, they are called by the French ' les ames damnees.' " 
— D allow ay. 



NOTES. 319 

Note 330, p. 225. — If there his darling rose is not. 

"You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs 
ind flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in 
lis constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his 
Deloved rose." — Jami. 

Note 331, p. 226. — From the great Mantra, which 
zround. 

" He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or 
talisman, through which he ruled over the elements and 
spirits of all denominations." — ^ Wii/ord. 

Note 332, p. 226. — To the gold ge?ns of Afric. 

"The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the 
Arabs El Herrez, from the supposed charm they contain." 
— yackson. 

Note 333, p. 226. — 'Fo keep him from the Siltim''s 
harm. 

"A demon, supposed to haunt woods, etc., in a human 
shape." — Richardson. 

Note 334, p. 227. — Her Selim^s smile to Nourmahal. 
The name of Jehan-Guire before his accession to the 
throne. 

Note 335, p. 228. — Anemones and Seas of Gold. 
" Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the 
brightest gold color." — Sir W. Joties. 

Note 336, p. 228. — Their buds on Camadeva's quiver. 

"This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delight- 
ful on earth, and the delicious odor of its blossoms justly 
Tives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God 
Df Love."— /^. 



32 o NOTES. 

Note 337, p. 228. — Is caWd the Mistress of the Night. 
"The Malayans style the tuberose (^Polianthes tuber osa) 
Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night." — Pennant. 

Note 338, p. 228. — That wander through Zamara's 
shades. 

The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which 
Zamara is one of the ancient names), " when not engaged 
in war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day in play- 
ing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flowers, 
among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the coun- 
try, mostly prevails." — Marsden. 

Note 339, p. 228. — From the divine A?}rrita tree, 
"The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu, or rose- 
apple) is called Amrita, or immortal, and the mythologists 
of Tibet apply the same word to a celestial tree, bearing 
ambrosial fruit." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 340, p. 228. — Dotvn to the basil tuft, that waves. 

Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally 
found in churchyards. 

"The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the 
week, to pray and weep at the sepulchres of the dead ; 
and the custom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort of 
herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is our sweet 
basil." — Alaillet, Lett. 10. 

Note 341, p. 228. — To scent the desert and the dead. 
" In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender 
and rosemary." — Asiatic Researches. 

Note 342, p. 230. — That blooms on a leafless bough. 
"The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the 
bare branches. ' ' — Hasselquist. 



NOTES. 321 

Note 343, p. 230. — Inhabit the mountain-herb, that 
dyes. 

An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communi- 
cate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goats and 
other animals that graze upon it. 

Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern 
alchymists look to as a means of making gold. " Most 
of those alchymical enthusiasts think themselves sure of 
success, if they could but find out the herb which gilds the- 
teeth and gives a yellow color to the flesh of the sheep 
that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be of a golden 
color. It is called Haschischat ed dab.'''' 

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth 
of the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver color; and 
adds, *'This confirms to me that which I observed in Can- 
dia: to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a 
certain herb which renders their teeth of a golden color; 
which, according to my judgment, cannot otherwise pro- 
ceed than from the mines which are under ground." — 
DandijiVs Voyage to Moiirit Libanus. 

Note 344, p. 231. — Of AzA.'B blew, was full ofscejtts. — 
The myrrh country. 

Note 345, p. 231. — Where Love himself, of old, lay 
sleeping. 

"This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown 
to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the 
Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea." 
— Wilford. 

Note 346, p. 231. — Fro7n Chindara's warbling fount 
I come. 

"A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be 
constantly playing." — Richardson. 



32 2 NOTES. 

Note 347, p. 232. — The cinnamon-seed from grove to 
grove. 

" The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carry- 
ing the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great 
disseminator of this valuable tree." — (See Brown's Illustr. 
Tab. 19.) 

Note 348, p. 232. — The past, the present, and future of 
pleasure. 

"Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of 
sounds, it is a perception of a complicated nature, made up 
of a sensation of the present sound or note, and an idea or 
remembrance of the foregoing, while their mixture and 
concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, as neither 
could have produced alone. And it is often heightened 
by an anticipation of the succeeding notes. Thus Sense, 
Memory, and Imagination are conjunctively employed." — 
Gerrard on Taste. 

This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as 
explained by Cicero: — " Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, 
dum prgesentem sentiat voluptatem : animum et prsesentem 
percipere pariter cum corpore, et prospicere venientem, 
nee praeteritam prseterfluere sinere." 

Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for 
the gratification we derive from rhyme: — " Elle est 
I'image de I'esperance et du souvenir. Un son nous fait 
desirer celui qui doit lui repondre, et quand le second 
retentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous echapper." 

Note 349, p. 233. — Whose glijupses are again with- 
drawn. 

"The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim 
and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. 
They account for this phenomenon in a most whimsical 



NOTES. ^'22, 

manner. They say that as the sun rises from behind the 
Kohl Qaf (Mount Caucasus), it passes a hole perforated 
through that mountain, and that darting its rays through 
it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this temporary 
appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is again 
veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain 
and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning." — 
Scott Waring. He thinks Milton may allude to this, 
when he says: 

*'Ere the blabbing Eastern scout, 
The nice morn, on the Indian steep 
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep." 

Note 350, p. 234. — In his juagnificent Shalimar, 
'* In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, 
one of the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jehan, con- 
structed a spacious garden called the Shalimar, which is 
abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs- 
Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into 
a canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through its 
centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water- 
works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To 
decorate this spot, the Mogul princes of India have dis- 
played an equal magnificence and taste; especially Jehan 
Gheer, who, with the enchanting Noor Mahl, made Kash- 
mire his usual residence during the summer months. On 
arches thrown over the canal are erected, at equal dis- 
tances, four or five suites of apartments, each consisting 
of a saloon, with four rooms at the angles, where the fol- 
lowers of the court attend, and the servants prepare sher- 
bets, coffee and the hookah. The frame of the doors of 
the principal saloon is composed of pieces of a stone of a 
black color, streaked with yellow lines, and of a closer 



324 NOTES. 

grain and higher polish than porphyry. They were taken, 
it is said, from a Hindoo temple, by one of the Mogul 
princes, and are esteemed of great value." — Forster, 

Note 351, p. 234. — Of beatity from its founts and 
streams. 

"The waters of Cachemir are the most renowned from 
its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for 
their beauty to them." — AH Yezdi. 

Note 352, p. 234. — Singing in gardens of the South. 

" From him I received the following little Gazzel, or 
Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from 
the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, who 
wander from that delightful valley over the various parts 
of India." — Persian Miscellanies. 

Note 353, p. 235. — Delicate as the roses there. 

" The roses of the Jinan Nile, or the Garden of the Nile 
(attached to the Emperor of Marocco's palace), are un- 
equalled, and mattresses are made of their leaves for the 
men of rank to recline upon." — Jackson. 

Note 354, p. 235. — With Paphian diamonds in their 
locks. 

" On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a 
cavern which produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. 
On account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian 
diamond. ' ' — Alariti. 

Note 355, p. 235. — On the gold meads of Candahar. 

"There is a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy 
Land." — Thevenot. In some of those countries to the 
north of India, vegetable gold is supposed to be produced. 



NOTES. 325 

Note 356, p. 235. — Had been by magic all set Jlying. 

"These are the butterflies which are called in the Chi- 
nese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such 
shining colors, and are so variegated, that they may be 
called flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced 
in the finest flower-gardens." — Dunn. 

Note 357, p. 235. — The features of young Arab maids. 

"The Arabian women wear black masks with little 
clasps prettily ordered." — Carreri. Niebuhr mentions 
their showing but one eye in conversation. 

Note 358, p. 236. — On Casein's hills. 

"The golden grapes of Casbin." — Description of Persia, 

Note 359, p. 236. — And sunniest apples ^'/^a/CAUBUL — 
"The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, 
pomegranates, " etc. — Elphinstone. 

Note 360, p. 236. — In all its thousand gardens bears. 

"We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and 
talked with the son of our Mehmaundar about our country 
and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account: that 
city and its 100,000 gardens," etc. — Id. 

Note 361, p. 236. — Malaya's nectar^ d mangusteen. 
"The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; 
the pride of the Malay Islands." — Marsden. 

Note 362, p. 236. — Seed of the Sun ^ from Iran's land. 

"A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians 
Tokm-ek-shems, signifying sun's seed." — Description of 
Persia. 

Note 363, p. 236. — With rich conserve of Visna cher- 
ries. 

" Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves 



326 NOTES. 

in conserve, with lemon of Visna cherry, orange flowers," 
etc. — Russel. 

Note 364, p. 236. — Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. 
"Antelopes, cropping the fresh berries of Erac." — The 
Moallakat, Poem of Tarafa. 

Note 365, p. 236. — And urns of porcelain from that 
isle. 

Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to 
have been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. 
The vessels which the fishermen and divers bring up from 
it are sold at an immense price in China and Japan. (See 
Kaenipfer. ) 

Note 366, p. 236. — Amber Rosolli. — Persian Tales. 

Note 367, p. 236. — From vineyards of the Green-Sea 
gushing. 

The white wine of Kishma. 

Note 368, p. 237. — Offered a city^s wealth. 

"The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest 
ruby that was ever seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered 
the value of a city for it, but the King answered he would 
not give it for the treasure of the world." — Marco Polo. 

Note 369, p. 237. — Upon a rosy lotus wreath. 

The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating 
down the Ganges on the Nymphcea Nelumbo. (See 
Pennant.") 

Note 370, p. 237. — When war?7i, they rise from Teflis' 
brooks. 

Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths. (See 
Kbit Haukal.) 



NOTES. 327 

Note 371, p. 237. — Of a syrinda. 

"The Indian Syrinda, or guitar." — Symez. 

Note 372, p. 238. — // is this, it is this. 

"Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building 
of Shah Allum's), in the cornice are the following lines in 
letters of gold upon a ground of white marble : — ^ If 
there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this.' " — 
Franklin. 

\ Note 373, p. 238. — As the flower of the Antra just op' d 
\' a bee. 

" Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the 
mountain-tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their 
voluptuous toil." — Song of Jayadeva. 

Note 374, p. 238. — Afid precious their tears as that 
rain from the sky. 

*' The Nisan or drops of spring rain, which they believe 
to produce pearls if they fall into shells." — Richardson. 

Note 375, p. 238. — Who for wine of this earth left the. 
fountains above. 

For an account of the share which wine had in the fall 
of the angels, see Mariti. 

Note 376, p. 239. — Of ISRAFIL, the Angel, there. 
The Angel of Music. See note 293, p. 198. 

Note 377, p. 241. — When first V is by the lapxving 
found. 

The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the 
power of discovering water under ground. 

Note 378, p. 243. — Of her dream. — See p. 243. 



328 NOTES. 

Note 379, p. 243. — Like that painted poi-celain. — *' The 
Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the side of 
porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which were only 
perceptible when the vessel was full of some liquor. They 
call this species Kia-tsin; that is, azure is put in press, on 
account of the manner in which the azure is laid on." — 
"They are every now and then trying to recover the art 
of this magical painting, but to no purpose." — Dunn. 

Note 380, p. 244. — House of Azor. — An eminent carver 
of idols, said in the Koran to be father to Abraham. " I 
have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in the 
house of Azor." — Hafiz. 

Note 381, p. 245. — The Unequalled. — Kachmire be 
Nazeer. — Forster. 

Note 382, p. 245. — Mir aculotis fountains. — " The par- 
donable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants has 
multiplied the places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beshan, 
and of Brama. All Cashmere is holy land, and miraculous 
fountains abound." — Major RennePs Memoirs of a Map 
of Hiiidostan. 

Jehan-Guire mentions " a fountain in Cashmere called 
Tirnagh, which signifies a snake; probably because some 
large snake had formerly been seen there." — "During 
the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, 
which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmere. The 
vestiges of places of worship and sanctity are to be traced 
without number amongst the ruins and the caves which are 
interspersed in its neighborhood." — Toozek\yehangeery. 
Vide Asiat. Misc. vol. ii. 

There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, the 
author of the Ayin-Acbaree, "who," says Major Rennel, 



NOTES. 329 

"appears to have caught some of the enthusiasm of the 
valley, by his description of the holy places in it.' 

Note 383, p. 245. — Roofed with flo7vers. — "On a 
standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, which 
shelters the building from the great quantity of snow that 
falls in the winter season. This fence communicates an 
equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness in the 
summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are 
planted with a variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance 
the spacious view of a beautifully chequered parterre." — 
Forster. 

Note 384, p. 245. — The triple-colored tortoise-shell of 
Pegu. — "Two hundred slaves there are who have no 
other office than to hunt the woods and marshes for triple- 
colored tortoises for the King's Vivary. Of the shells of 
these also lanterns are made." — Vincent le Rlanc'^s 
Travels. 

Note 385, p. 246. — Like the meteors of the ?7orth as they 
are seen by those hunters. — For a description of the 
Aurora Borealis as it appears to these hunters, vide Ency- 

clopcEdia. 

Note 386, p. 246. — Odoriferous wind. — This wind, 
which is to blow from Syria Damascena, is, according to 
the Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last Day's ap- 
proach. 

Another of the signs is, " Great distress in the world, so 
that a man when he passes by another's grave shall say, 
' Would to God I were in his place ! ' " — Salens Prelim- 
inary Discourse. 



330 NOTES. 

Note 387, p. 248. — As precious as the Cerulean Throne 
of Coolburga. — "On Mahommed Shaw's return to Kool- 
burga (the capital of Dekkan), he made a great festival, 
and mounted this throne with much pomp and magnifi- 
cence, calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. I have heard some 
old persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of 
Sultan Mamood Bhamenee, describe it. They say that it 
was in length nine feet, and three in breadth; made of 
ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and set with pre- 
cious stones of immense value. Every prince of the house 
of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made a point of 
adding to it some rich stones; so that when, in the reign 
of Sultan Mamood, it was taken to pieces, to remove some 
of the jewels to be set in vases and cups, the jewellers 
valued it at one corore of 00ns (nearly four millions ster- 
ling). I learned also that it was called Firozeh from being 
partly enamelled of a sky-blue color, which was in time 
totally concealed by the number of jewels." — Ferishta. 



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